Blown Away: 13th Hunger Games
by LongLiveThePretenders
Summary: Dried lightning cracked across the sky. Storm clouds gathered in the distance. The wind howled and echoed throughout their ears. And in the distance, to everyone's horror in the green sky it formed. Welcome to the 13th Hunger Games where killing other tributes will only get you so far . You'll need luck on your side to win this year because in these Games, no one is safe.*closed*
1. Chapter 1

***Heys guys ! ****So I was listening to Blown Away by Carrie Underwood and reading Hunger Games FanFic when I suddenly thought of this weird idea of an Arena with a tornado in it; almost like Kansas-themed or something . So yeah , this is it . However , I cannot think of 24 tributes and their stories all on my own . So here's a SYOT story.**

**However , I need to make some guidelines . I would like detailed descriptions of the tributes first of all . Plus , make sure the tributes have orginial , weird names . In the Arena , there were no normal , unoriginal names . Plus , I like originality . Originality is good ;-) . Please follow the tribute form on my profie and PM me the tribute info (I am no longer taking ones that are sent on reviews . I hate that! So please Personal Message me) . I will not take them if they are not detailed and not following the tribute profile on my page . Also if you reserve a spot , please send me the information back as soon as possible . I cannot wait forever. **

**I could not resist writing the first two chapters so here's the first one . The second one will be coming shortly . Keep in mind as we get more into the games , the chapters will tend to be longer . Please , please , please submit tributes guys and please PM them to me and follow the tribute form on my profile . :-) And also , the tribute list is on my profile now , because apparently I was in violation of a few things . So no more Tribute List , it's on my profile . Thank you to all who sent in tributes.***

CHAPTER 1

He had a thin, long, official scroll tucked underneath his arm and a villainous smirk plastered across his perfectly clean face. He eyed a few citizens in their outlandish, vibrant clothes and nodded to the other Gamemaker officials as they strutted down the corridor to other opposing meetings.

Gamemaker Axenol Chorister felt good. Astounding if he did so say himself. Under him arm, was the plans for the 13th Annual Hunger Games. And to be honest, he felt utterly pleased with himself thinking about these plans. They were deathly, vicious and different. No one would be expected this type of an arena; it would be the first of his kind. And in less than a few minutes, was the time when he would display his brilliant ideas of the new Games' Arena.

He sashayed down the endless corridor, anxious to arrive at the meeting with the other Head Gamemakers. Who would have thought Axenol Chorister would think of a type of Arena like this one? It was absolutely brilliant; never before thought of.

Yet he just had to make sure the others and President Samarian Vane loved the idea as much as he did. That would be tough considering that President Vane's reputation of being please was very slim. Plus if they did not like the idea they would have to go Raxamius Pladge's idea—the main competitor for Axenol's spot as Head Gamemaker. And Axenol could not let that happen. He had put enough effort into the past Games to be elected Head Gamemaker. Raxamius could not win; not now, not ever because his idea was utterly smashing, no doubt much better than Raxamius'.

With his clicking, suede shoes on the corridor's linoleum and his crimson suit jacket fluttering behind him like a cape, he felt confident. He breathing a sigh of relief as the guards opened the golden, polished, double doors into the partially dark, meeting room where ten eager Gamemakers and President Vane sat around a circular, ceramic table. President Vane sat at the end, directly opposite of Axenol and staring him dead on, awaiting to be pleased. Axenol began to sweat, praying that the President would like his idea. He nodded at everyone in the room and began to set up.

"So this is what we're going to do."


	2. Chapter 2

***Hey, guys . Sorry for the short chapter but there was not much to say . I will be making these chapters longer as soon as the Reaping and everything begins . However , I cannot write the full Reaping without tributes ;-) . So please , send in tributes through PM and follow the profile of hte tributes on my profile . And make them original and detailed ! I won't except them , if they aren't . Remember to review , me gustaa reviews . Also , thanks to HungerGamesFan01 for reviewing so much :-) . I appreicate it . So yeah , whatdaya think of hte chapter and send those tributes !**

CHAPTER 2

Axenol felt on top of the world. President Vane approved of Axenol's amazing idea. As Axenol was presented a devilish, approving smile appeared upon the President's pale lips.

The idea was splendid according to the President and all the other Gamemakers.

Axenol had won Head Gamemaker.

After everyone had left, Axenol was packing up, his glee bubbling up inside of him when the President called for him to stay. He sat down right next to the President and lay his blueprints on the table. "Yes, Mr. President," he replied a little nervous.

"Axenol, I must say your idea was truly outstanding. One of the best I have ever seen. The idea of making it just like the old Midwest is brilliant. And the effects of the cyclones, well is just completely original. And I like originality Axenol. Originality is what drives these Games. I think your tornado effect won me over however."

"Thank you sir," Axenol replied happily. "The great thing about this Arena is the fact of the unpredictable twister. With these tributes, no matter how many tributes you kill it will not matter. This game is all about luck. And well sir, we all thirteen is a very unlucky number."

"Yes, I like that. It adds to the twist." There was an evil look in the old man's eyes. President Vane was pushing eighty and soon would have to retire from the position of presidency. He was vile, bloodthirsty, conniving and would do anything to get what he wanted. To be honest, Axenol was intimated by the President and being in his presence. The president could do anything he wanted with the flick of his wrist. In a second, if Axenol did something wrong he could be executed like that. Axenol was young. As the president dismissed ,he knew that these Games needed to be textbook flawless.

Sauntering down the hallway, he went into his private office where he immediately began to make important calls. "Hello, it's Axenol. Get the architects together, we're going to start creating this Arena."


	3. Chapter 3

***Hey guys ! So , I figured if I had the first few tributes for the Districts , I might as well write the Reapings for it because I know a lot of you have been asking for updates ;-) . Also many of you have been asking I change the previous chapter because they wanted more insight from the tributes. So I mushed together the Capitol and the tributes' p-o-v . Soo here ya go!**

** District 2 is coming up shortly . This one is pretty long because it includes a lot of info about the Capitol , so the next chapter might be rather long . Most likely from here on the chapters will be longer . But anyway , here it is , the next chapter . And please , please , please submit more tributes . I only need a little more . So , yeah c'mon and submit them . Don't be shy to submit more than 1 (but no more than 4) . ;-) Plus FOLLOW THE GUIDELINES I set up . I cannot stress this more please . Okay well byee .**

CHAPTER 3

On a warm, spring morning amidst the glitz and the glamour of the vivid Capitol fashion and excitement, thousands gathered in the Capitol square to witness the Reapings of the surrounding Districts; all of which will participate in the 13th Hunger Games.

Many excitement was billowing around the citizens of Panem. Everyone was intensely curious of what this year's Arena would be like. Many were expected a twist being that it was the 13th Hunger Games; maybe some very unfortunate because after all, 13th was an unlucky number.

The sea of crowded, flamboyant-colored citizens milled in front of the massive, 45 foot screen.

And deep within the crevasses of glittering, silver, steel Capitol buildings, twenty-four Gamemakers and Axenol Chorister sat around electronic tables, fiddling with dials and screens, adjusting camera angles on the screen being displayed in front of the thousands of Capitol citizens.

Axenol stood in the center, hands on his hips, peering up at the screen that showed what others were watching. Currently, Julius Fernguard was rambling on the screen about past Hunger Games with his co-host Westchester Aman and the usual diversity within the age groups. They talked about their favorite Arenas and favorite winners. Clips from past Games dashed across the screen. Everything was going along well and Axenol was pleased. That was all that currently mattered. It did not matter that Axenol was Head Gamemaker who was calling the shots and that all the immense pressure of creating a textbook Hunger Games was on him. It did not matter that Raxamius Pladge was perched in the second-in-command seat; just feet from Axenol's authorized perch. None of that mattered. Axenol was pleased with the finished arena and sauntered over to the window to the one-way window to peer down at the Capitol citizens in the town square. Axenol liked his view from the Gamemaker building. It was a secluded building perched on a hill in the corner of the Capitol, near the faraway, hidden Arena nearby. Many citizens had money in their hands as to say 'if there would a volunteer from District 2' or that 'there will be a 12 year old from 7' and et cetera.

The anticipation for this year's Games was astonishing and Axenol felt overjoyed to be the Gamemaker. He took in a deep breath and issued a command to change the camera angle on the overhead screen.

Suddenly Julius put his finger to his ear, obviously get crucial information out of his earpiece and announced, "The Reapings will now begin!"

Thousands of citizens roared in anticipation as the scene flashed to the District 1 square. Many pumped their fists in the air and some alcoholic drinks spilt on the floor and others.

"Okay, switch to District 1 cameras," he announced.

"Switching to District 1," Raxamius replied.

Kaja peered around at the scene in front of her. Hundreds of teenage eager Careers crowding into the District 1 piazza, all eager to have a rare chance of participating in the 13th Hunger Games could be seen. _Not me, _she thought to herself, standing by herself in the sixteen year-old section amidst chattering, skilled girls. _Not with Makenna still here. _ Velvet, a girl nearby who was one of the bloodthirsty and vicious girls in the Training Academy, chattered on endlessly about is she was Reaped she would win and be victorious.

Kaja rolled her eyes. Who would ever want to fight to the death with the horrific possibility is you might die on the battlefield? That you would be leaving behind your loved ones…everyone?

Kaja looked over wistfully and sorrowfully towards the back of the piazza where Makenna—her hyperactive, little sister whom she loved entirely—and her scattered parents who half-heartedly held onto Kenna to make sure she didn't run off while they talked to other pre-occupied town parents who evidently did not care their children might be Reaped to fight in the death. A pang of hurt hit Kaja but suddenly brushed it away. After all, her parents did not care for her. It _was_ Kaja who was practically raising Kenna on her own anyway, one of the many reasons why she had no real friends.

When Kenna saw Kaja through the crowds of people, she began jumping up and down while simultaneously waving manically. She could see Kenna yelling Kaja's name, but needless to say Kaja could not hear or the constant mumbles of the crowd.

_Poor Kenna. She has no idea what this is about, she thinks this is something grand. If only she knew, maybe she would not be so ecstatic. I don't know, she is after all a bloodthirsty Career in the making._

Suddenly the District 1 escort, Plalina Dasderdee, walked onto the stage her matching blue hair and lips shining outlandishly into the crowd. Her frilly, peplum, violet frock over her light blue gown made it difficult for her to walk as well as in her outrageous, stiletto, cobalt heels. When the escort finally reached the podium to announced the female and male tributes, she readjusted her tall, curly wig and primped her dress, making sure she looked her absolutely best. She tapped on the microphone, her lips pursed anxiously. "Well isn't this excited?" she announced loudly into the microphone. Axenol could hear the thunderous, anxious hollers coming from below. In District 1, light claps could be heard throughout the square with the occasional holler from the crowd. Plalina overlooked the crowd superiorly. _Well they all seem pretty eager and ready. I think District 1 has a chance this year, _she thought to herself.

"Well let us not carry this out. But first, a word from our very own Capitol!"

The screen in the District 1 square showed images of a terrible war, starvation, explosions, a horrendous scene all together. Everyone all across Panem was solemn respectively as they stared at the screen. After the clip was over, Plalina looked up into the crowd, a huge, beaming smile on her face.

"Well, let us begin. First, the female tribute!"

"Close up on the bowl please. Follow her. Zoom," Axenol commanded.  
The roaring grew in the Capitol as Plalina stuck her hand in the huge, glass bowl containing many names in the bowl. Her hand gave out with one slip of perfectly sealed paper. Needless to say, the scene in the Capitol was utter pandemonium. The suspense was killing them.

Yet in the Districts, everything was hush.

Plalina pulled apart the slip of paper and took in a deep breath to announced the first female tribute of the 13th Hunger Games. "Katherine Jasmine Thomle," she announced with a crisp voice.

Kaja opened her mouth in appall. It was her name that was just called. _No, _she exclaimed to herself. _This could not have happened. I have Kenna! No!_

Yet she was a Career and she could not show any signs of despair, especially on live television nonetheless. So gathering herself, she remained stunned, shaking her head silently at the question of how could the Capitol just tear families apart so quickly and meaninglessly. She peered towards all the girls. No one volunteered for her. It wasn't a shock. She had no friends. She scarcely attended TrainingAcademy because she was too preoccupied taking care of her sister. To everyone in the crowd, she was invisible. A wallflower.

She finally made it to the stage after what seemed like eons. From the stage she could see her mother and father, who for the first time in a long time, finally was paying attention to their daughter as she stood on the stage. Kenna was too preoccupied with a little frog by her foot to understand what happened or that her sister was standing on the stage of doom. Plalina looked irritated by the long wait of coming to the stage and adjusted Katherine Jasmine right to the circular bowl. She smiled at her, told her 'congratulations' softly and walked over to the bowl where the male names were to be chosen. Again a single, perfectly sealed piece of paper came out, promptly squeezed in between Plalina's fingertips.

"Mica Willis," she announced.

Before the cameras could even locate Mica, a loud, clear, echoing 'I volunteer' cried out. The cameras ferociously panned to a tall, athletic, brooding boy who evidently looked eighteen lunge forward, not even giving a flick of the eye to the Mica boy who was chosen. "I volunteer as tribute," he announced, immediately sauntering up the stage. He smirked confidently as he strode to the stage. _Thank God, they let me volunteer. Mica could not even beat up a doll. I will win this Games. I'm way better than him anyway,_ he thought as he reached the stage. He smiled to himself as he stood there on the stage. He waved slightly at the audience of District 1. _This is it. I finally have the chance to avenge Dad's death. After all these years, I'm ready. I'll show Polish I can finally win these Games. _ Plalina walked over to the boy and adjusted him on the stage. "Now what is your name," she asked.

"Jasper Wathen," the boy replied confidently. Jasper smirked. He looked at the blank crowd and scanned for his mother who stood towards the back, with her hand on her chest. She looked slightly aghast but when she made eye contact with Jasper she just smiled as if to say, 'Well done, Jasper. It is about time.'

Kaja did not recognize Jasper but she's heard a lot about him. All the girls obsessed with him because he was "so gorgeous and hunky." Kaja heard he was the best in the male rankings for the TrainingAcademy, a thought that made Kaja almost cry inside.

Jasper peered over at his brother Polish, who sat in the third chair on stage. He sat with the mayor, a Peacekeeper and another previous victor to the Games. Polish won the tenth Hunger Games at the age of sixteen. Polish was always trying to one-up him in everything, especially in the TrainingAcademy and in public. But now, it was Jasper's turn to show he had the guts, the skill, the viciousness. He was ready. Ready to take on the Games; he was sure to win them.

"Ladies and gentlemen, your District 1 tributes for the 13th Hunger Games, Katherine Jasmine Thomle—er, excuse me Katherine Jasmine, but is there any nickname you can give us to, you know shorten your name," she whispered to her.

Kaja continued to stare out into the audience as she said barely above a whisper, "Kaja. It's Kaja."  
"Ladies and gentleman, your District 1 tributes for the 13th Hunger Games: Kaja Thomle and Jasper Wathen. Shake hands. Congratulations to you both and may the odds be ever in your favor," she announced as the two ruthless tributes shook hands. They were lead out into the JusticeBuilding of their District.

_This cannot be happening. I'm going to die in there. The Jasper boy might kill me myself_, Kaja thought.

_She's just another kill. I'm going to show them , especially Polish. Just watch me now Dad,_ Jasper thought.

Jasper was visited by his mother, who looked a little out of place with her hair kind of messy and racked. It was a faulty surprise: his mother was usually pixel perfect and not a hair out of place with anything. So to see her look like this was rather odd and a spectacle to see.

She did not say anything at first, just merely sat down—not even looking him in the eye—and replied, "Win."  
"Of course, I am going to win. Who do you think you are talking to mother? It is me we are talking about. I'm top of the class—"

"Jasper, please. Confidence can only get you so far," his mother replied.

"Mother, please. Polish had tons more confidence than I did. In fact, he was rather cocky. And still he won."  
"Polish is different."  
Jasper absorbed that for a minute. His mother was meaning to say that Polish was much better than Jasper and that Jasper could never win the Games. Polish _barely_ made it out the Games, almost insane by the time the hovercraft came in. Polish killed his opponent with a knife, stabbing him about 50 times in the chest. It was the boy from District 2. After a while, Polish became raged with his sudden bloodthirstiness at the ruthless murder he just committed. He soon became stabbing himself in the leg, just out of the fact he could not live with himself. The hovercraft was just above him as he fainted. How could Jasper _not_ beat him?

Once Jasper fully comprehended what his mother replied, he stood up and yelled, "Get out!"  
"What? Jasper, no you have misunderstood! It's not like that!"

"Get out! I don't care you are my mother! I want you out of here! How dare you say that bullcrap? I hate you and when I, you and Polish won't be allowed to live in _my _own house! You can live with Polish if you love him so much," he sneered as he threw the velvet seat nearby. In almost tears, his mother frantic and appalled, backed up quickly to the door. At that instant, in the middle of his rage, Peacekeepers came in, dragged his mother out as he ordered, "I don't want anymore visitors either! I hate you!"

Kaja heard the yelling through the walls. Every word. It chilled her to the bone. She was standing by the window looking out at District 1's plaza when she heard the roars of him threatening his mother. It shocked Kaja that he could become so furious and dangerous in a matter of mere seconds. She heard a crash, some whistles and one more final threat as the door slammed shut.

Kaja was alone in her quarters, gripping the windowpane with tears streaming down her face. No one had come to visit her yet. She would not be surprised if no one did—not even her parents. Who knows what they were doing currently besides be visiting their bidding daughter.

She began to pace when suddenly the door opened and a Peacekeeper replied, "You have two minutes."

Her mother, father and little Kenna came bursting through the door. Giddy Kenna came over to instantly, a huge smile on her face and hugged Kaja's legs. "Mama and Dada say you win big pwize!" she replied with her tiny smile. She was so adorable, it was hard not to cry. Kaja began wiping away her tears when Kenna exclaimed, "Why you cwying? You win pwize!"

Kaja wiped the tears away, sat her down on her knee and replied with a sad smile, "It's not like that, Kenna."

"Kenna say goodbye to your sister. She is going away for a while to go get her prize. She needs to play a game first before she gets it."  
"Ohhh," comprehended little Kenna. She hugged Kaja and beamed brightly, "Goodbye sister. I hope you win big pwize! I wove you!" Kaja smiled remorsefully and responded, "I love you too Kenna. So much. Never forget me."

Unsure if Kenna understood as her mother and father directed her to go wait outside with the nice Peacekeeper, Kaja became to feel terrible and wished for someone else much more lethal than her was chosen so she would not be parted from Kenna.

Her father spoke first, but it came out like he was forced to. "Well, we know you will probably not win so we better start saying goodbye."  
At this, Kaja became filled with rage, anger, depression and woe all in the same time. Through her tears and sniffles she replied angrily, "What?"  
"Oh Katherine, you know could never win these Games with one) that boy against you and two) you have only been to approximately two Training sessions in your life!"  
Suddenly, Kaja had enough. How could her parents say this to her? She knew her death was inevitable at this point but they did not need to rub it in her face. "First of all, who the hell are you for saying those things about me? How dare you! You are my parents! You are supposed to encourage me to do my best and win these Games! No, you instead tell me—not even meaning it—'oh well you're a goner and we 'love you!' God! You know why I don't have a chance of winning and haven't been to any Training sessions? It's because you two scatterbrains are too busy with your own stupid, ridiculous social lives to even give a damn about Kenna and I! Who has been practically raising her? Me! You haven't done one good thing for me all these years! I have been forced to be a loner in school because you two have done NOTHING for me! I feel bad for Kenna because she is two and is now going to suffer because you two probably will not even take care of her! She'll DIE BECAUSE OF YOU TOO! So you know what? You can send your social little butts out of here because you honestly have no right being here because really, the only person worth being here, is Kenna who is outside waiting with a stupid Peacekeeper, while you two are in here making a disgrace out of yourselves!

In appall at herself and still with her parents, Kaja suddenly felt what it was probably like in the other room with the Jasper boy. And after getting out all she had to say, she felt revealed, like a seventy pound weight was just released off her shoulders.

Her mother looked at her in awe, anger and woe as she left the room with tears in her eyes and her father looked at Kaja with steam and disgrace. She could see Kenna standing outside the doorway, sucking her thumb; her eyes pondering for endless questions. Just before her father stepped out the door he turned to her and said seriously, "I guess I never loved you either."

With that, the door slammed shut.

***Reviews? Is this better than the previous chapter, to me personally I think it is. So review or PM your thoughts (and tributes of course)**


	4. Chapter 4

***Hey guys , so here is the District 2 Reaping . This will be the final Reaping for a while because I NEED TRIBUTES ! I cannot stress this enough . So please PM me some tributes based off the tribute forms on my profile and no more than 4 tribues just in case (BE DETAILED PELASE) . Also , if you reserve a tribute please get it in by no later than 7 days because I do know some people who are asking me if they can reserve spots and never turn in an app and then other people request it and I'm like ah , someone already reserved it . So pleasee , please , please do so . And oh yeah , review ! I liked that a lot of you reveiwed on chapter 3 and how you did not really like the way it was going so yeahh . Thanks again and I hope you enjoy this chapter . And I need tributess !**

CHAPTER 4

The prick was the part Rhodes hated about the Reaping. He could withstand the fact of eight blades pointing towards him or a slash mark to the face, but never the slight prick that the Peacekeepers did to your fingertip. He winced at the prick and walked towards the seventeen year-old section.

Mera had escorted him to the Reaping. Obviously his mom was not capable of doing so because of her bed-ridden disease she had. Mera stood off, in the way corner of the town plaza, shy and trying to keep quiet.

Rhodes was nervous, utterly nervous. As he took his place amongst the other, bloodthirsty seventeen year-old guys, he peered unhappily at the circular glass bowl perched on a mahogany table on the looming stage. He eyed the bowl with slanted, determined eyes. His name was in there 22 times. It was in fact a loud number considering most of the Career children were usually well-off. There were of course, those children who wanted more chances to have an opportunity to win the cruel, malicious Games. Rhodes was not like that though. He was poor. His mother was bedridden with a horrible, unknown disease. A disease that both Mera and Rhodes knew was going to leave her dead soon.

Rhodes sighed. Mera, who was scarcely past the age of six, had already witnessed the death of two of her siblings in past Hunger Games. Mera, who carried herself like she was twelve. Mera, who already knew of the inexplicable horrors and death tolls of the Games and that if you went in them, you had a good probability of dying. Mera hated the Capitol just like Rhodes; however it was mostly because Rhodes hated it. Whatever Rhodes hated, Mera hated. She honored him and practically copied his every move to grow up to be just like him.

Rhodes ran his hand over the spot on his left cheek where the jagged, white scar still lay on his cheek. It reminded him of all the endless hours of training he has endured so one day, whenever and if ever he was Reaped, that he would be prepared for the Games… and prepared to take down the Capitol and show them, that these Games were sick, sadistic and brutal.

_If I win, maybe I can get Mom some medications. Maybe she can finally get better, _Rhodes thought.

Across the square, Reyya Mason played nervously with her heart-shaped locket from her mother around her neck. The same thoughts flashed across her mind as well at the thought of her mother, so sickly in her bed with her autoimmune disease.

_This is it. This is the year. This is the year, Mama will get her medicine and I will win the Games,_ she thought to herself, her feet tapping nervously.

Reyya looked around at all the other girls who were obviously much more capable of volunteering for the Games rather than Reyya. After all, Reyya was afraid to kill people.

True, she had been trained profoundly ever since she reached the age of twelve and yes, she was decently lethal but she lacked the Career mentality to actually kill a person. She was weak on the inside, weak in her brain.

Yet this is for Mama.

Her elder brothers were definitely not going to volunteer, it was pretty evident. They wanted nothing to do with the Games and to not ever step foot on the bloody battlefield ever. Reyya had to take matters into her own hands. Originally she planned to volunteer around seventeen or eighteen, but then Mama got worse. Much worse. Her mother was often coughing out blood and vomiting consistently. Reyya was not sure how much longer she would hang out. She needed to saver her mother from the deathly illness.

Yet soon everyone's attention snapped to the stage as the JusticeBuilding doors opened and out stepped the mentors, past victors and mayor. Yohan Carav, the escort for District 2, sauntered onto the stage after wards, walking his outrageous Capitol walk and speaking in his ridiculous Capitol accent. Rhodes could not help but roll his eyes. _Just another reason why I hate the Capitol._

After Yohan presented the customary introduction, he walked over to the female bowl, fiddling his fingers through the bowl until he pulled out a single slip. Reyya knew what had to be done and it had to be done quickly. Before Yohan could even open up the slip of paper, Reyya shouted, "I volunteer as tribute!"  
Yohan looked a little surprised by the suddenness of it. "Oh well, that was rather quick," Yohan exclaimed, which gained a chuckle or two from the audience.

Reyya's heart was beating a mile a minute. Her breath was caught in her throat and she was petrified but she would not let it show. She took a deep breath and carried herself confidently and calmly to the stage. "Your name dear?"

"Reyya Mason," she replied confidently.

"Well congratulations. Now for the boys."

Reyya spotted her brothers in the crowd who just looked at her as if to say is she crazy. Reyya turned her head away, not wanting to make a scene on stage and tried to remain as confident, calm and bloodthirsty as possible.

Yohan came back to the stage his fingers, holding tightly onto the paper. "Now let's wait until after I open the paper to volunteer now shall we," he replied, addressed more Reyya than the audience. As he opened the paper, Rhodes' heart beat manically. _If it's me… _he thought.

But he did not have much time to think as suddenly the name, "Rhodes Valentine" rocketed out into the crowd.

Rhodes looked at Yohan with huge eyes. _Is he serious? I was not being literal. _He looked at Mera in the background of the square and nodded to her. She knew what had to be done if this happened. She immediately began to run home.

Rhodes plastered on a cold, dark look on his face, making a statement he was not a force to be reckoned with. Rhodes had to pretend he was a cruel, sadistic freak no? But on the inside he smiled to himself. His outer cold expression remained the same as some eighteen year-old, red-haired man jumped out of the crowd and yelled with all his might, "I volunteer!"

Rhodes turned around fiercely and upon seeing who it was, immediately barked in his deep, infuriating, haunting voice, "No!" Rhodes knew who it was. It was that idiot guy, Lark who thought he was all-that. Lark was a cocky, conceited jerk who always said he would volunteer when he turned 18 for the Reaping. He had no doubt in his miniature mind he could win. Rhodes, who was one of the best students in the TrainingAcademy and younger, got pissed at him one day because he broke him sword. He thought Rhodes wouldn't need it after all because he was never going to get his chance to redemption or get 'little, sickly mommy' medicine for her. It was the year his eldest sister was brutally killed in the Games. Rhodes was screwed up back then. He was pissed and lunged for Lark but Lark was better and gashed his cheek. Rhodes had hated him ever since. _Just think, I'm going to show them all I can win these Games. I got skill, am way better than Lark and beat the crap out of anyone who comes near me. Then I'll get medicine for Mom and I will show those stupid freaking Capitol idiots who's boss. They won't know what hit them, _he thought as he finally reached the stage and saw an infuriated, steaming, bulky Lark standing in the walkway of the crowds. Rhodes could tell he was fit to be tied because after all, how _dare_ Rhodes turn down his volunteer request because "Lark was _so_ much better than Rhodes."

As Yohan gathered Lark on the stage, he announced happily, "Your District 2 tributes everyone. Shake hands and may the odds be ever in your favor."  
As Rhodes and Reyya were led into the back, Lark yelled out with all his might and anger in him, "I hope you bring disgrace to your District Rhodes!" A few curse words were followed after as Peacekeeper's whistles were echoed through the town square.

While Rhodes was smug about beating Lark finally and was prepared for the Games to bring home medications for his mother, the adrenaline in Reyya diminished and her knees began to wobble uncontrollably.

Reyya was satisfied to get into her room. She instantly collapsed onto the love seat and began clutching her stomach. A wave of nausea ran over her. She knew she had to volunteer; she had to get medications for Mama. Yet now that the Reaping itself was over, she became unsettlingly nervous at the fact that even the Games were quite far, they were so near and pretty soon, she would be thrust into the cruel world of the Games to slaughter other children her age. She leaned for the pearl trash container nearby and leaned over, prepared to vomit.

She pictured the scene her brothers coming in seeing her like this and asking her a mouth load of questions, throwing around accusations. She never _did_ tell them her plan, not even Mama. Mama, who still was bedridden and barely able to open her eyes the whole way was incredibly protective of her children. Mama asked everything so she could know everything. Even though she was ill, she still called the shots. And yet, Reyya did not even tell her own mother a plan on how to save her. Reyya felt horrible.

About ten minutes later, when the nausea faded slightly and she lay on the loveseat her hand to head, when her brothers came in. It had been quite awhile and Reyya was starting to question whether or not they would come. Her drunken father came waddling in a few seconds later, a wheelchair in tow. Mama's head limply hung on the back part of the wheelchair. Reyya sat up in awe. At the sight of Mama, she looked dead and within seconds, Reyya was up and in her father's face. "What did you do to her?" she sneered.

"What the hell you talking about?" her father slurred, his hands up in protest. At the sight of his left, scarred hand, she remembered back to the time when she was six and she stabbed her intoxicated father after he tried to attack her mother. Ever since then, she always was very protective of her mother, especially now.

Demetrius, the eldest twin, stepped in between the two of them. "Hey, calm down Reyya. Look what were you thinking?"  
"Huh?" Reyya asked confused.

"You're terrified of killing," Darius replied, throwing his hands up in the air.

"I did it for Mama," Reyya replied, barely an octave higher than a whisper. "She needs the medicine. If I win, she'll get all the medicine she needs. She will be okay again. She needs this. She cannot die." Tears began to form in Reyya's eyes but she sniffled them back, trying not to show her weakness: her mother.

"Reyya, we can find other ways. This was not one of them," Demetrius replied.

"And you didn't even tell us," her father finished.

She shot darts of hate in her father's direction—oh! how she hated him—and responded, "I didn't tell you because I knew all of you would protest, even Mama."  
Upon hearing her name, her mother gently opened her eyes. "Mama," Reyya replied, crouching down to one knee and cradling her mother's hand.

Her sickly mother turned to her and smiled her gentle smile. Before her mother got ill, her mother was actually quite beautiful. It still boggled Reyya's mind why on earth she chose her father. Maybe it was because Mama saw something good in him, she always did anyway, with everyone.

"Reyya, you do not have to save me. You shouldn't have done it, you—cough—didn't have to darling."  
"It's okay. I promise I wanted to. And yes, yes I do have to have to save you. You are my mother. You, you just cannot leave Mama. I love you too much," Reyya replied with tears streaming down her face.

"Shh, child it's okay. I understand your decision. It was wrong, everyone must die eventually darling, but I understand you cannot let me go yet. I do have one condition if you are going to be forced into these Games… I, I want you to, to fight—cough, cough—you hardest and win these Games. Mama thinks you're strong enough to take on these, these, these Games. I love you and I want you to have this," she replied, giving her a small little heart shaped photograph of the family. Reyya wanted to protest; she liked the picture of her mother in her locket. But Mama had one condition and this was it. A sad smile formed on Reyya's lips. "I will Mama, I will try my hardest."

"Good," Mama replied as she fell back to her slumber and a Peacekeeper came in saying their time was up and she immediately hugged her mother, whispering in her ear, "I love you Mama and I always will. Fight hard for me. I'm coming home for you." She gave her brothers a quick group hug as they said, "You'll win and we love you."

Her father of course, said nothing as he wheeled her mother out the door. Reyya wished her darts of hate could choke him. She could not trust him as far as she could throw him, especially with Reyya not there no more taking care of her mother.

Rhodes smiled to himself in spite of himself. He was now going into the Games to show those Capitol jerks who was boss and who could really bring justice to the Districts. No more children were worth dying for these ridiculous Games. Thirteen was going to be the last Hunger Games anyone ever played/watched.

Plus Rhodes was very please at the thought of immediately turning Lark's volunteer down. It felt good. He showed Lark, he was not all that and that he was not going to volunteer for his last Games. He ignored the threats and now was smiling to himself.

He wondered if Mera could come visit him. She was after all underage, however maybe she could sweet talk the Peacekeepers into letting her talk to him. Mera could bargain better than anyone for a little six year-old. There was no doubt in his mind Mera would come through.

Yet as an hour passed on, Rhodes began to become nervous that Mera might not show up at all. After all, the tributes were only allowed two hours for family and friends to come and say goodbye to them. The rule was just made three years ago, after tributes went insane from being trapped with nothing to do in a room for eons and causing to delay the Games and Capitol anticipation further.

Rhodes occasionally peeked out of peephole in his door to see if anyone was outside negotiating with the Peacekeepers to let them in to speak to Rhodes. Yet all times, no one was there.

He found himself staring at the door for about another half hour, just waiting; his eyes darting from the oak doors to the ticking clock on the wall.

With ten minutes left, Rhodes felt as if no one was coming and eventually gave up. He plopped onto the couch, utter despair hitting him. _I never got to say goodbye._ True, he knew it would only be a little while, but still. He had never been so far apart from his mother and sister for long. Plus, he had specific instructions to give to Mera beforehand. Yet now they would go unanswered.

Suddenly, the door opened. Rhodes just felt that it was the Peacekeepers summoning to bring him to the train to the Capitol but when he sat up, tiny Mera stood at the doorway, a small, depressed smile on her face. "Mera," he breathed as he stood up and walked over to her, embracing her in a hug. "What took you so long?"

"Mommy made me get a few things. But don't worry I got them for her."

"She made you run errands now?"  
"No for you. Here," she replied, handing him a District 2 emblem pin. "She wanted you to have this. She said she remembered when she was a girl, that she saw a pin like this. She wanted so bad but her Daddy would not let her get it. It was too expensive. She told me to run to the market and buy it for you. I only got it for a bag of her mommy's broken pearls!"  
"Mera, it was that much," Rhodes exclaimed.

"No, I was able to lower the price too."  
Rhodes looked it over. It was a nice pin and he needed a token. They sat in a few seconds of awkward silence when he suddenly noticed Mera crying. "Mera—"

"Don't die out there Rhodes. Please don't die. Mommy is dying and I don't want you to leave me too. I don't want to be alone," she exclaimed, sobbing.

He embraced her in a hug and stroked her curls. Then he pulled her back, grabbed her shoulders, looked deep into her azure eyes and replied, "Hey, don't talk like. I'm coming back. I am a Career after all, I've been trained for a while. I can do this. I can win for the District. I'll bring home medicine for Mom and soon, we will live in a nice house in that Victor's Village unlike our pitiful shack we live in now okay?"

"That was what Opal and Renly said," she replied between hiccups.

"Yeah, but I am not like them. I keep my promises. I am strong, smart, lethal and I can win. I'll win for you," he replied. "I promise."

She smiled and nodded. "Come back as you please and I love you."

Coming from anyone else, that might have been quite a shock but coming from Mera, it was not truly a shock. Wise beyond her years. Rhodes knew it too. He knew what Mera meant. She meant not to come back corrupted like how the past two victors of the Games were (from District 1 and 4). He was not going to be like them. Rhodes knew it. He was going to fight with justice for his sister, for his mother… to bring down the wretched Capitol.


	5. Chapter 5

***Helloo everyone ! So here is the Disrtict 3 Reaping and to be honest , this one took like forever to write . Usually I write the chapters in like a day but this took like 3 . District 4 should be coming sometime later on this week . Anyway , leave reviews please and remember the more reviews you leave , the better hte chance your tribute has to win ! ;-) Okay , well bye .**

CHAPTER 5

Her mother fixed her shoulder-length, beautiful, butter-blonde hair into a spiky, waterfall bun. Valeria peered anxiously into the mirror, spreading her hands over her light pink blouse and brown, pleated skirt. The skirt was quite large for her, an old skirt of her mothers, and her petite structure made it look like it was swimming on her. She sighed. Reaping days were just awful in everyway. She was always forced to wear frilly, loose attire that was usually her mothers and endure the long announcement of whom would be forced into the Hunger Games. Valeria had only endured one other besides this year's and she still hated them. She was always nervous she would get picked to be cast for the Games.

Her mother noticed her panicky attitude and crouched down to her tiny, thirteen year-old daughter and smiled. "You will be fine, Valeria. I believe in you."  
Valeria could only weakly smile. Every parent told their child this every year, yet sadly two of them would lie to the two children cast. "Mother, you do not need to lie to me. I am smart enough to know that I might not be okay. I might be drawn."

Her mother sighed sadly at the inevitable truth. "You're right. I should not lie to you. After all, you are smarter than I am," her mother said weakly with tears in her eyes. Her poor, intelligent, beautiful daughter could very well be cast for the Games.

As the clock in their home reached noon and Valeria put on her brown flats, she hugged her mother and father separately, her heart pounding in her chest. "We'll be there shortly," her father said. "And Valeria, no matter what happens. We will always love you with all our hearts. We believe in you because you are the smartest, most beautiful young lady we have ever met. And I am very proud to call you my daughter."  
Even though Valeria's father said it last year before she left for her first Reaping, she knew her father meant it with all his heart because he was having slight tears form in his eyes. She smiled sorrowfully and hugged her parents again as she took the short walk by herself to the District square downtown.

After going through the signing-in protocol and et cetera, she took her spot amidst the crowd in the thirteen year-old section. Though she lived in a rather wealthier District and her name was only in their twice, she still hated the Games and anxiety always pumped through her veins on Reapings. She never wanted to partake in the heartless Hunger Games; she had witnessed quite a few and after seeing some of the awful murders that occur in the Games, she never wanted to step foot into an Arena in her life.

But she knew she might one day will.

She surveyed the people around her. She knew many of them from school and around the District but she never actually was friends with any of them. She was a genius, a child prodigy as her father called and never really developed children social skills mostly due to the fact that she was rather blunt and too literal to the cruel, real world around her. She did not waste her time daydreaming but focusing on the facts. And the fact right now was that, many of the girls shaking around her were not very intelligent to the win the Games if they were Reaped. She did not want to put herself up on a pedestal but it _was_ in fact true. Plus, many of the children in the District could not handle a weapon. The children of District 3 are only really skilled in technology and creating things from volts, wires and etc and lots of times, wires and coils were not available in the Games—at least, according to Valeria they had not been in the past few Games.

Suddenly the District 3 escort, Lucretia Dane shimmied onto the stage, her hair in a dramatic shade of violet that corresponded with her dress attire. To Valeria's opinion, Lucretia was ridiculous and ignorant. She was always too overdramatic and daft, a silly reflection of the Capitol. She had been District 3's escort for the past five years and to almost everyone in the District, she was irritating.

As Lucretia shimmied onto stage and waved dramatically to the audience in her three inch stilettos, she fumbled over the cord on the stage, connecting the microphone to the sound system offstage. She regained her balance and adjusted her skyscraper wig, ludicrously. "What a bubble-brain," Valeria whispered to herself. However, the girl next to her named Volta whom she knew from school giggled slightly and replied, "Yeah, she is pretty ditzy. We always get the stupid ones." Valeria nodded a little sheepishly, not thinking anyone heard her and turned her attention back to the stage, Volta suddenly whispered, "Oh and good luck."  
"You too," Valeria whispered slightly but as soon as she said it, she knew it came out kind of sarcastically. Not wanting to make a big scene in the middle of the Reaping, Valeria awkwardly dipped her attention back to Lucretia who had just begun speaking and beginning her usual, flamboyant introduction. After the introduction was done, Lucretia announced, "And now it is time to draw the tributes who will have the most gracious honor in representing the fine District of District 3 in the 13th Hunger Games! Ladies first!" She shimmied over to the bowl and Valeria held her breath. _Please, please don't let it be me. _She suddenly opened her eyes to find Volta linking her hands with her and looking with her with wide-eyes. Valeria tried to resist slightly but Volta held on.

_We're all nervous, this is just a way to feel secure,_ she thought, not too keen on the idea of linking hands with semi-strangers.

Valeria did not even look at Lucretia open the tribute name. _There's no sense in praying. Nothing is going to prevent this fate from happening,_ she thought.

Sure enough, Lucretia's voice boomed out clearly and long into the audience that her name was chosen.

Valeria's head popped up in aghast. Her name was chosen. The inevitable had occurred. She looked around in somewhat awe and then proceeded out to the walkway. She took a deep breath and sucked in her woe, as she realized there was nothing she could do about it. Fate had a way of deciding itself and this just so happened to be fate's direction. She was now being hauled to fight to the death. Not unless someone were to volunteer for her, which was the most unlikely cause ever because she had no real friends due to her lack of social skills.

As she plastered on her blank, determined, strong face, she walked up to the stage. Lucretia needless to say, had to make a scene. "Oh, how tiny you are! Why you look very nice today in your attire," she replied, truly not meaning it because Capitol people hated the way the Districts dressed. "Tell me, how old are you dear?"

"Thirteen," Valeria replied, kind of embarrassed. She did not look much like a thirteen year-old. She was flat-chested with a scrawny, petite structure, only being about six inches over four feet. She sighed, cursing genetics for giving her thin figure as Lucretia went on the name the boy tribute. Valeria spotted her mother and father in the crowd, clutching each other somberly and shockingly. Their worst fear had come true. Their only child and only daughter was being scheduled to fight in the Games. She saw glimmering tears form in her mother's eyes and Valeria just wanted to speak out and say, "Do not cry. Crying means weakness and you are much stronger than that." She wanted to console her mother, but currently that was not an option.

Yin Jerksag stood towards the front row, peering up at Valeria, the girl who was just Reaped for to be the female tribute of the 13th Hunger Games. He knew Valeria around school however she was a year his elder. She stood on the stage, confidently and determined, offering a blank expression on his face and in his wandering, cobalt eyes.

Yin hoped his name was not Reaped. His name was only in their once—once! He could not possibly be picked, it was almost laughable… but it could always be possible. It was all about the odds after all.

And Yin however did not want to compete with Valeria. Talk around the District and what his father had said to him a while back was that she was an intelligent girl who could build anything from a string and some volts and wires. She was a child prodigy, destined to be one of the top engineers in the biggest technology manufacture firm in the District.

No doubt was she far smarter to outwit Yin in the Games.

Which was one of the reasons why he did not want to go against her.

Unlike Yin who never was skilled in coils, wires etc and because of this, no one around Yin wanted to even stand next to him. He was incompetent to the District and they all shunned him—including his own parents. Everyone except his brother, who just like him was very introverted and socially awkward. Due to this, Yin had low self-esteem, according to his mother. Yet Yin did not care as long as he had his music he was fine.

Yin tapped his foot impatiently, wanting this Reaping to be over and done with so he could just go home. The airhead, conceited escort was shimming over in baby steps to the bowl to draw a name. It seemed like eons later when she finally arrived back at the podium, where she spent another five minutes adjusting her outfit. Yin rolled his eyes and felt like screaming out at the woman to hurry up when suddenly she called out, "Yin Jerksag."  
It took Yin a few seconds to understand it was his name being called. As soon as he registered it was his name, a sense of intense fury ran through his veins. In a sense of anger, he cocked his head up to the sky and screamed in frustration, woe and anger that now fate had just screwed up his life even farther. As he looked around in vehemence, his anger grew. Not only because he would be going up against an intelligent District opponent but he had to also include twenty-two other tributes.

He looked at his brother who was in the back who looked confused and sad and tried to step forward for his brother but then remembered, he was nineteen and illegible to volunteer.

Yin looked around as if to ask if anyone were to volunteer for him yet the immediate response from the crowd was an instant no. After all, he was practically a nobody in the District. Who would ever volunteer for a nobody besides a ruthless Career? This was not a District of Careers. It was a District of fear of being Reaped for the Games.

_I'm only freaking twelve, _he thought to himself as he stepped out of the crowd. _I'm going to die. No doubt._

Suddenly all hope vanished as he stomped onto the stage, sulking incredibly. He didn't want to die. He was only twelve. He was an introverted loner who was shunned by his District because he could not deal with electronics. No one liked him, except for his brother, who Yin felt that sometimes was obliged to because of Yin's loneliness. And now, he was being thrown into a Games that would kill him for sure.

After the two shook hands and everything, they were lead into their separate rooms.

Valeria lay on the velvet couch in her room and began to breathe slowly and steadily. _There is nothing I can do about it. I'm just going to have to try._ Yet she had to come to her senses after a while and realize there was a high probability she would die, being a thirteen year-old from District 3.

Her mother and father came in instantly, tears streaming down her mother's face. She was frantic and instantly rushed to her young daughter's side and began stroking her hair. This caused Valeria to begin to cry. "Shh, Mother, shh," she soothed her mother, stroking her hair. Her mother pulled away and caressed Valeria's face. "Oh sweetheart," she replied, simultaneously wiping away Valeria's tears as well as hers. "I'm so sorry."  
"Mother, don't be sorry. This isn't your fault. It's the Capitol's. They are the ones who organize this, who thrill on the death in these Games. Mother, it's okay. Shh," Valeria replied.

Her father knelt down to her level besides his grief-stricken wife. He put his hand on Valeria's knee and silently and somberly looked at Valeria as she soothed her mother. Valeria did not know how much time was available to her parents to say goodbye to her—possibly forever—but she did not care. She hugged both her parents together for what seemed like ages until her father pulled away and broke the silence. "Valeria listen to me. You are intelligent and possibly much smarter than any of those Careers or other tributes to step foot into that Arena. I have taught you many things and I believe that you can win. You will win."

"Father, wisdom can only get you so far in the Games."

"No. Do not say that because wisdom is the best skill to ever have in the Hunger Games. If you are reckless and stupid like many of those tributes and like a lot of Careers, then you will not win. If you are smart, you will. And you are smart. Now I don't care what your mentor says, but when the Games begin, get your hands on some wires, coils, volts, and bolts whatever. Just get your hands on something electrical and you'll be unstoppable—"

"They may not have that stuff Dad—"

"Yes they will because when you go into your Private Training Session, you will make a bomb or a trap or something. They will _have_ to put those items in the Cornucopia."  
"The Cornucopia is dangerous. It's a Bloodbath. I don't want to die in the first few seconds of the Games, Dad."  
"You won't because you are smart and you'll be able to maneuver through. Trust me. You do trust me right?" Valeria nodded. "When have I ever lied to you Valeria? You will be okay."

Valeria did not want to mention that her father said almost the exact same thing this morning of the Reaping and that Valeria would be Reaped. She was. Hence, that was one lie in her mind. One strike. How could Valeria be certain she would survive the horrific Bloodbath in the beginning? She was quick on her feet, a genius and talented with technological equipment. On top of that she was a skilled computer hacker, but good would that do in the Hunger Games? True, if she's fast she can quickly sprint away from her attackers but when it comes to hand-to-hand combat, she was weak and would be overtaken by her aggressor. Laying low, would be Valeria's only option. That and of course, finding some type of electrical equipment to create traps and everything in the Games.

_Maybe, if I follow with that, maybe I will have a slim chance of winning, _she thought.

With slight, glistening tears in her eyes, she stared at both of her parents and began to nod for no apparent reason. Suddenly, she was immensely grateful for the love from both of parents. Unconditional, irrevocable love that no matter what occurs will never loosen. She hugged both of her parent's neck, suddenly not feeling like a young adult like how she usually carries herself but as a little, innocent, scared kid. "I love you both so much," she croaked.

They hugged her back tighter and replied, "We love you too Valeria. And we promise, we will be here for you no matter. When you come home, we'll be here. Do not fret, you are coming home and do not doubt yourself because you Valeria Helix is one intelligent human being and we love you with all our hearts," replied her woeful mother.

Valeria nodded as she could not help the tears stream down her face. Usually, she could control her emotions and have almost none at all, resembling a robot, to prove she was strong and determined for anything. Yet as she sat there with her loving parents, for the first time in a long time, she felt like how a thirteen year-old should. She felt maybe her daily struggle to fit in was finally occurring as her parents were carried out the door.

"Yin!" exclaimed Yang with anguish as he burst through the doors of Yin's private room. Yin blankly turned around in his chair after peering out the window with sunken eyes. It had been an hour and in that time frame, Yin's optimism was deteriorating. There was no doubt in Yin's mind that he would die in the Hunger Games this year and for the past hour, he has spent his time swimming in the foreseeable future.

With little to no emotion, Yin replied, "Hey Yang."  
Yang, sensing his younger brother's depressing emotions, halted in his steps and peered at his brother oddly. "What's wrong?"  
"What's wrong? Seriously? I got Reaped for the freaking Hunger Games, that's what is wrong," Yin replied with anger.

Yang sat down next to his brother as their parents both came trotting in slowly. "Yin, you could still win—"

"No, don't stay that bull crap. I hate lying and you know it."  
"I'm not—"

"Shut up," Yin replied, turning his direction back to the window.

Yang felt a stab of hurt at Yin's words. "Yin, we're just trying to console you," he whispered.

"Yin, sweetheart, listen to us. This, what just occurred out there, was tragic and we cannot express how sorry we are. But sweetheart, you're going to win because you can hide and—"

"Big whoop-de-freaking-do Mom; I can hide—big whoop. Hiding can only get me so far in the Games Mom." Yin looked around at his family; it was honestly a joke that they were all there. The only one who truly cared for his with all his flaws and did not care that he was a big misfit was Yang. His mother however was scarcely home, always being a personal organizer for Capitol associates in the District and never really had enough time for Yin. His father, who awkwardly stood in the corner of the room with his hands in his pockets, could not give two craps about Yin. His father hated children to begin with, which was always a speculation of why he ended up allowing Mom to have two kids, and rarely even gave Yin the time of day. Though he hated both his kids, Yang was his favorite. Possibly because Yang could actually work with technology items, was rather skilled with them and had a possible, nice future in the District. Yin however did not. And Yin knew that. His father knew that.

It was one the reasons where there and now in that little family room in the Justice Building was why Yin was giving up and wishing to die.

"I want to die," he scarcely whispered to his family as he turned to look back out the dismal window. Slight rain began to fall on the District floor and people hurried here and there, continuing to proceed on with their everyday lives. It only added on to the crushing, depressing, life-ending day.

"What?" proclaimed Yang, shocked at the words that just came out of Yin's mouth.

And Yin with his twelve year-old mind promptly repeated, "I want to die," as he looked into the eyes of his mother, father and brother.

For what seemed like years, the room was tense and hush. Yin knew immediately that what he said, he should have kept to himself.

"Yin, sweetheart no," said his mother as she broke the silence. "Just because you were Reaped does not necessarily mean you will die. You must try. Throughout all of the stressful Games, you must try. You must come home."  
"Why?"  
"Well we want you to come home," replied Yang. Throughout of all it, his father had not mustered one syllable. Yin eyed his father uneasily and stared dead on at Yang. "Why? Why would I want to come home? I'm not here; I'm a misfit. No one likes a misfit, come on. I mean even you guys—besides Yang—none of you even really care about me!" Yin was standing up now, his hands clenched by his side. "You're both too busy working to even understand the pain I am going through and when you are home, you two don't care. Especially Dad, he hates both Yang and me. I'm surprised he even _has_ kids, he _hates_ them anyway."

His mother bolted upright and his father took a few steps forward. "Now young man you know that is not true. Your father and I love you very much. We understand you are under a lot of pressure, sadness and stress right now because of the Games that will be happening in such a short time but that does not mean you can take it out on us. We're going through a lot of pain as well—"

"Nothing like I am," Yin responded calmly and slowly.

"Yin you are not a misfit. No one in the District hates you. True, just because you are not entirely good at electrical wirings and what not, does not mean that the District is against you. Plus, you have a lot of friends…" His mother stopped and turned towards their father, clear sobs being heard.

"I don't have friends. If you guys were home more often and paid attention, you would know that… Look, I love you all very much, no matter how much you don't. Remember that. I just, I just don't want to live on this planet anymore. And I wish the Games were closer upon us so this torture could just end already. But it's clear no one wants me. I just want to live in peace now. Remember, I love you guys but I think it is time for you guys to go."

His mother sobbed all the way out and his brother looked betrayed.

And as Yin looked out at the raining sky, he silently thanked fate for creating this mere blessing for him to stop suffering from the depression that ravaged his body. From now, he would live comfortably in a place where no one would judge him anymore.


	6. Chapter 6

***Hey guys ! I know it's been a looong time since I've updated but here is Distrct 4 . I've been so busy with exams , new classes and everything so I haven't had time to write . And then when I did , my mind went blank .**

**But here it is and as it it's pretty short . It did not purposely end up like that . So Distrct 5 might come much more frequent than 4 , but let's not hold onto that statement . Alright , well ta-da ! Hope you enjoy and remember whoever reviews the most will most likely win. Don't expect to have your tribute win if you never review. Okay.***

CHAPTER 6

Lem Finiar walked amongst the sea of children sauntering towards the District square. Lem found it odd that the District square was not even in the center of the District, where it traditionally should be but that it was near the fishing docks and ports on the east side of the District. I guess it just corresponded with the overall feeling of District 4, but still Lem found it odd.

Lem peered out of the corner of his eyes at the Peacekeepers that strolled the streets. He was a little on edge today, mainly because it was just last night he was almost caught giving away some extra food to those in the District who cannot get some.

Lem's father was one of the top fishermen in the District and with it, came a bountiful of food for his family. Sometimes it was a little too much and his father's generous nature let him give some food away to others. It was Lem's job to deliver the leftover food to them, which always required him sneaking out at the wee hours of the night and darting in between alley ways and backyards, sometimes swimming into the marina to the fishing boat houses. Lem's father always told him to extremely cautious and be on the lookout for Peacekeepers. Lem never really knew if giving away food to others was illegal but it sure would look suspicious to be wandering about at the late hours of the night. And the Peacekeepers in his District were never to coy on pulling out their guns on someone. And last night, he could swear he was spotted by a few Peacekeepers. However Lem was too quick for them and hid in the marina waters under a dock until almost sunrise and sprinted home faster than ever. He was not entirely sure whether or not the Peacekeepers knew exactly who they saw last night, but Lem did not want to give anything away. So he merely just kept walking not wanting to bring on any attention. Yet after all he did stand out immensely in the District with his bright red hair that literally was red.

Finally, he reached the piazza where many people had already begun to find places amidst the crowd. The Reaping for this year's Hunger Games was underway.

Though Lem came from a Career district and though he was pretty athletic, Lem was nervous to be Reaped for the Games. He never really went to much of the Training Classes because he never really found a purpose in it. Many of the kids in the District did mainly because of the fact that they are often overlooked for not being as ruthless and bloodthirsty as the tributes from 1 and/or 2. Plus, Lem always felt a little bit of confident that he would not be picked.

He was the only one of his family left to continue with the Reapings. His eldest brother was already married and had a child, and his other twin brothers were twenty.

And he just wished that this year, this unlucky year of 13, that he would not be Reaped.

Brystol often walked with her twin brother Ben every year to the Reapings but this year, Ben overslept and was still getting ready when she was just about to leave. Brystol hated waiting for her careless brother and did not want to be late on Reaping day. If you were, you would suffer some type of slight punishment from the District. And even if the punishment was minor, you were automatically added to the District's bad list. Brystol never wanted to have her name end up on that list because once you are, you have a target for being watched 24/7.

Ben however could careless and Brystol knew that, hence one of the reasons that Brystol left without him, knowing she was sixteen and could easily make the walk by herself. Her mother was nervous as Brystol walked out the door, her mind in various different places as she cared for Kyla—the youngest one who rested on the age of four—worried about her two children who could be Reaped today, fixed Kyler's—Brystol's younger brother—breakfast and finished ironing Ben's shirt with the old iron.

Brystol carefully breathed in and out on counts of ten as she walked to the plaza. She always got nervous every year the Reapings took place. She did not want to leave her family; her mother could not handle everything on her own and Ben—being the careless, lackadaisical person he is—was not a good person to be trusted with the responsibility load. Ever since Brystol's father died in a fatal boating accident when she was eleven, she took on the role of being the "second mother" and assisting her in anything she could possibly do.

It had been an especially tough year, Brystol knew and this was the year that she secretly put her name in more times for tessarae. So needless to say that her name was in rather there a lot this year, a total of roughly 13 times. She knew however there were people a lot worse off, but still, she could not shake the feeling.

As she took her spot with the other sixteen year-olds, she felt slightly intimidated. Some of these girls had attended the CareerAcademy after school and trained to be a vicious Career. Many of them were skilled and lethal with a spear or a trident, masters at intricate knot-tying and nets, and extremely proficient with swimming. Even though Brystol held the District record for the best swim time in three strokes and her long legs made running easy, she sucked at everything else and felt that if it came down to two she would lose the fight.

Oceana, a popular Career girl who Brystol knew from around the District rambled on about she hoped one or two tributes were Reaped this year from 4, so they had a great chance of winning and so District 4 could win after not having a win in three years. Their last winner was a girl named Mags who was only 15 when she won. Brystol silently prayed it was not her.

Sofia Waxx, the District for 4 practically sprinted onto the stage. Sofia was normally always a little late to the Reapings and often the District just stood in silence for ten minutes just staring at the stage. Brystol rolled her eyes when she finally arrived to the stage. "Hello District Four, happy Hunger Games and may the odds be ever in your favor for this year's Games. Oh, what a nice day out. The sun is shining and the seawater smells so wonderful doesn't it?"  
The crowd of District 4 responded in silence.

"Well, let's get to it because remember time is precious everyone."

About a minute or two later after a pointless video from the Capitol that played at every Reaping every year, Sofia began rummaged blindly through the clear bowl that held approximately 400 female names. Brystol's breath caught in her throat as out of that pile came one single name. And before Brystol could even comprehend her surroundings, worry if her brother even appeared for the Reapings or where her mother was, a single name rocketed out into the crowd. It was a shrill echo in Brystol's ears. The name, the single that was now forced to fight to the death in this annual, deathly pageant… was hers.

Brystol locked eyes with Sofia's wandering. She was appalled yet at the same time, her name was in their quite frequently. She should have expected it. Yet she was hoping that maybe it wouldn't be hers. She hoped maybe she heard wrong yet when Sofia found her eyes she waved her hand as to beckon Brystol to the stage. "What are you waiting for you twit?" Oceana replied, practically shoving Brystol into the walking isle. "Go."  
_I can do this. Brystol you can do,_ Brystol thought to herself as she sauntered to the stage. When it was clear no one was going to be too eager to lunge forward and volunteer for her, she became utterly determined to win the Games. _I have to do this; I will do this… for my family._

Sadness hit Brystol as she realized of the crushing depart of her family could possibly be permanent. After all, her careless brother was not to be trusted with the load. _No, no Brystol. You're going to get your butt out of those Games. Mom needs you _…

She peered out into the crowd, seeing her brother his eyes wide. It looked like she was debating between himself but once he made eye contact with her, she just shook her head no and Ben nodded, understanding he should not volunteer to protect his sister. It would only mean double the heartache for her mother and they couldn't do that to their mother.

Sofia turned her back to Brystol, not giving her much thought and proceeded to draw the male name. _Please don't have it be Ben, please don't have it be Ben._

"Lemur Finiar!" Sofia announced.

Shock was the first thing that initially hit Lem. He only had his name in their four times and now he was just Reaped? Stepping out into the walkway, he knew he could not show fear. The Game makers and the Capitol citizens were watching this right now and he knew that they always went after the weaklings, the scared ones. He would not show fear. _I'll play it off, I'm some kind of ruthless Career from 4. That should work… hopefully,_ he thought to himself.

Lem looked for his father in the crowd but he was probably just coming back from the fishing boat and was still probably making his way over here. It seemed District 4 was one of the only Districts that still continued work through the Reapings. However, usually the boats got to come in earlier. If you were late coming in however, that's your fault. Lem knew this sucked. He did not know anyone in the crowd that would get the news to his father that he was Reaped.

Lem and Brystol shook hands and then were wheeled into the JusticeBuilding to be held temporarily before the Games.

Lem tried opening the window in his room to be able to smell the ocean breeze but the window was sealed tight, obviously to make sure the tributes won't runaway. Yet Lem needed that smell—the smell of the sea—or else in this small, crammed room he might go crazy.

District 4 was rather wealthy and all their buildings look nice and professional, which was why Lem never understood why the rooms in the JusticeBuilding were so tiny. He had heard from a few of the past victors that the rooms were incredibly crowded and only a few feet big. Lem's bedroom was bigger than this and Lem's bedroom was not that big considering their house was quite small. All the furniture touched when it should look space out, making the room look much more cluttered and tight. Lem didn't like it; it was not like he was afraid of crammed quarters but he was not a big fan of the tightness.

He still could not believe though. He had been Reaped for the Hunger Games. What was he going to do in there? Honestly, what good would he be? He was in fact a fantastic swimmer, pretty stealthy and was a swift runner, which were some bonus points in entering the Games. But the odds of having an arena where swimming would be a be advantage would be minimal.

Odds. It was all about the odds. Lem knew that, in fact everyone knew that. If there were possibly an arena this year that where swimming was an enormous advantage, then for sure he could possibly win. Either him or the other tribute from the District, Brystol. He knew she held a lot of records for females in the District from her amazing swimming abilities. Yet Lem thought maybe he could beat her… He honestly didn't know.

"I'll have to pretend to be a Career," he whispered out loud. That would be one of his only options. He would pretend to be violent and cruel, just like the Careers from 1 and 2.

At that moment, Lem's father, Sami, Marco and Prier—his three elder brothers—came bursting through the door. Prier's little daughter Izzy was with him too, but she rested her head against her father's shoulder and was sound asleep currently. Lem jumped to hug his father but then remembered how his father said before in his past, 'Men do not hug. That is for women,' and stopped himself. His father clearly took note and grabbed his son and held him in a warm embrace. "Forget what I said in the past. This is the present." A few seconds of silence went by with him, his father, and his brothers hugging together. Once they pulled away, Prier looked him in his eyes and replied, "You can win."

"No I—"

"No, you_ can _win. Don't doubt yourself because if you have that attitude then you will never win the Games. You can win, you're fast, athletic and an excellent swimmer. You have a much better chance than any of us did if we were to ever be reaped," Prier explained.

Lem looked at Prier with a bit of speculation. Prier was out all of the Finiar boys had the greatest chance of winning. He was likeable, athletic, charming and could be very vicious when he needed to be. Without a doubt, he could win the Games, unlike Lem. "Maybe if I play it off that I'm some Career or something," Lem began.

"Bro, you don't have to do that," Marco interjected. "If you just act like yourself, there's no doubt in my mind, you could come walking out of those Games.

Lem shrugged, doubting himself slightly. Maybe he could come out of the Games, but it seemed almost unlikely. There were 23 other tributes competing to be the overall winner of these Games, to go home. And Lem just didn't know if he could be one of them.

Brystol was shaking slightly in her room with her family who just entered. Her mother was cradling her as best as she could in her arms, soothing her and petting her head. Kyla and Kyler were perched on the armrest on the leather divan and Ben was oddly holding Brystol's hand. Ben was more shocked than Brystol, which added onto the peculiarity.

She took in deep breath and breathed out on counts of ten. "I'll miss you all," Brystol replied as her mother pulled away slightly. "It is going to be so lonesome in the Capitol without you all." She peered over at Kyla and Kyler who barely understood what was occurring right now and were giggling gleefully as they could see who could stay on the armrest the longest. Her mother noticed and yelled at the two to quit fooling around.

Brystol smiled at the sadness of all this. Her innocent little siblings, her poor, busy mother, and her careless twin brother. The thought of possibly not seeing them ever again was heartbreaking. Sorrow and a twang of pain hit her chest. How would her family manage without her? It was becoming too much. "Ben, you're going to have step up to the plate here okay? Please, Ben for me, for Mom and the little ones. Pull your own weight please, just for a little while. Only a little while until I come back, then everything can return to normal," she explained through her slight tears forming. "I mean I don't trust you with this load," she joked as laughed slightly. Her brother and mother laughed slightly with her. "Please Ben, just for a little while until I get back because I am coming back because I _am_ coming back. I'm coming back for all of you, especially Mom. I cannot leave you. I promise."

Her mother smiled a poignant, thin grin as she kissed her daughter's forehead. "That's right, you're going to come home. I know you and I trust in you. You know your strengths, just remain hidden and don't go looking for trouble. I believe in you sweetheart and when you win, I'll have flowers and big bowl of chowder awaiting you."  
"Thank you Mom. I love you," she whispered somberly.

Another kiss on the forehead and the final farewells came and went suddenly before Brystol was left alone in her room, deliberating if she had what it takes to come back home before her brother destroyed it.


	7. Chapter 7

***Hey guys ! Sorry , it took slightly a long time for me to get Chapter 7 up and that I said it would come on Monday . To be honest , I completely forgot about this chapter and thought I was done but yeah , I found out I wasn't . I am working on a main actual , legit story that I plan on getting published so that is actually my main priority . So anyway , here's District 5's Reapings . Please review because remember the more you review the better chance you have of your tribute to win . ;-) no matter how much I love your tribute , I will probably kill them off if you don't review because honestly if you don't review it shows you don't really care , jsut sayingg ;-) . Anyway here ya go and bye !**

CHAPTER 7

Lux awoke to the sound of deep, moan-like snoring echoing through the hallway of the diminutive house she lived in. It was her father, sound asleep on the couch, laying in pile of broken pieces of wood that came from the once-was mahogany coffee table in front of the couch. No doubt was her father high on morphling yet again and had one of his odd, spontaneous tantrums. She sighed as fixed herself a pathetic bowl of oatmeal and got ready for the Reaping that was to come later on in the day.

As she was almost half-dressed for the Reapings, loud, clunky footsteps clunked down the hallway to her bedroom/bathroom and her father materialized at her doorway. His eyes were red, drooping and drugged and his face looked tired, old and yellowing. He looked around a little puzzled and replied in barely audible voice, "How long have you been up?"

"A couple of hours or so. I'm not sure."  
"Why didn't you get me, I could have helped you get ready," he replied, a little angry.

"I, I did not want to wake you," she whispered, a little hesitant. Her father nodded a little understandingly and began to walk to the kitchen.

She looked at her extremely slim and tall structure in her full-length mirror. Her outfit was needless to say, swimming on her. She never really had nice clothes when she was around ten and her father was always too preoccupied with his own morphling addiction. He was always home, wallowing in self-pity to notice Lux's increasingly thinning figure, that there was never any food at home. He never noticed when Lux came home from her job working in the smog-filled power plant factory with something tucked underneath her shirt. Usually it was a loaf of bread or some type of money stuffed into her pocket to buy some food for herself. Maybe it was that he never noticed was because Lux never shared any of the food with him. It was her way of payback for shutting her out after her mother… left.

She grabbed one of her brown belts and strapped her merchant, lavender frock around her to tighten the dress and make it not look so large on her. She still looked like she was trying to fight into her mother's dress but she just sighed it off and walked out the door, not giving her father much thought. She thought she heard her father call for her but when she stepped back into the house, she saw her father leaning over the rusty kitchen sink with a needle in his hand. "Dad?" she called, knowing what her father was about to do on this day of all days.

"What Lux?"  
"Uh, bye," she replied awkwardly and softly.

"Bye sweetie. Good luck I guess."  
"Will you be there?" There was a pause and Lux repeated it. "Uh, uh yeah, uh I guess."

She nodded to herself with slight tears in her eyes but she knew this occurred every year. Her father promised that he would be there every year—he only showed up for the first year but got so drugged up on morphling it was that day that caused him to get fired from his high position in the power plant. He went into work all drugged up and dopey that he was instantly fired after he started necking a teenage girl and yelling Lux's mother's name.

After that it went downhill.

Lux knew that she could never trust her father's words. They were never honest. Maybe the reason why he never showed up to the Reapings was because it was too hard on him to see his only daughter, his only connection to his deceased wife, being seen having to endure the torture of waiting if she were to be Reaped for that year's Games.

As Lux walked to the town square, a curly, blond-head came running over her. Aome, Lux's best friend. The gloominess that lurked over the day did not seem to bother Aome, with her consistent happiness and optimism. Aome bounded over to Lux and gave her a large, greeting hug. "Hey Aome," Lux replied sullenly.

"Lux, what's wrong? You seem glum."

Lux could never understand how on earth her friend was always so enthusiastic, especially on a day like this. Of all days, to be happy this would be the least expected. She gave Aome a look as if to say 'really, what do you think?' "I'm going to get Reaped today remember?"  
"You are with that negativity," Aome replied, shrugging as her and Lux walked onto the piazza.

"No one in this District applies for tessarae and you know that. Only the starving, which is me. And even with the tessarae I get and the… extra food, I still am hungry," Lux replied as the inevitable truth. Her name was in there more times than anyone. Non one in 5 applied for tessarae mainly because there were no truly starving people. Most people had two capable parents who worked. She however had one who was always so drugged up that he was incapable.

As she went to sign in and the stage materialized in the distance, the glowering, glass bowl was perched on the oak stand with all the neatly folded, perfect names in them. Fourteen of them had Lux Hawley.

She knew it; she knew she was to be picked. It was almost impossible to avoid. And no one but Aome would be there to bid her goodbye.

Slight thunder rumbled in the distance as Dusty stepped outside of his lovely home. He stared back at his house, looking inside. His silent mother stared out of her usual window while he father had just come up behind and had begun massaging her shoulders. He turned away from the window and ruffled up his dusty blond hair that usually stuck to the back of his neck. His father made sure his hair was slicked back at nice, just in case he were to be Reaped he would look nice for the Capitol but Dusty didn't care. He didn't give a damn about the Capitol and felt that he should not have to dress up like he wanted to actually be there in the Capitol if he were Reaped. He did not even understand why his father cared so much, they scarcely talked to him as it was. The invisible barrier in between them was strong and unable to be broken, not now, not after all these years of silence.

No one in their family ever even really talked to each other. Their house was constantly silent, like it was haunted by inexplicable demons or something. Dinners were always cold and sketchy. No one even peered at each other, just the porridge in their bowls. Doors remained shut and the darkness overwhelmed the whole scene.

Dusty knew the reason why no one in his family ever talked; in fact, he always had known it. They figured if they didn't speak to him, if they didn't love him, when they lost him it would not hurt. And even though Dusty did not show it, it hurt him to the core. Sure, he knew they were all depressed and broken on the inside, but so was Dusty. Yet his parents either did not seem to care or were too blind with their own sorrows to acknowledge Dusty's.

He began to saunter off angrily towards the piazza. His cold, ruthless, unforgiving eyes darted from side to side as he walked. He could tell people were cowering away from him, walking away slowly from him or looking on at him slight fear. He knew he was intimidating. And that was how he liked it.

Instead of heading towards the town square, he ducked behind a shrub and pulled out the lone photograph that he owned of December.

December, his deceased sister.

He stroked the picture and smiled a somber smile. He was the only one to still hold a picture of smiling December, besides the one picture that hung on the wall at home.

"Hey sis," he whispered to the still picture. "You know today is the Reaping as do I and I cannot help but think about you… You were in my shoes five years ago with your brave, nifty self. You thought you would walk out of the Reaping not chosen. But you were and you died… And I know that. I saw it with my own eyes. God, December you were so close. If only you turned around at that instant you could have seen it. Seen the boy from 10. And maybe, just maybe, you could have killed him and you would still be here right now and possibly everything would be alright. Yet we both know, nothing is the same December and we know there is a chance I could be Reaped. So if I do, I have a plan and don't worry Dee, everything will be fine. Okay, I love you." He pushed back the slight tears that formed at the rims of his eyes and looked at the picture a last time at the girl who practically raised him when his parents could not.

Then putting back on his usual depressed, angry personality, he stomped towards the square.

Once he arrived he looked around at everyone who was there. His hand kept touching the pocket where his photograph was. He saw some of his old friends that he scarcely remembered that stood off in the distance. After he became cold, heartless and too occupied training himself physically and mentally for the possibility that he could be Reaped for the Games, he forgot about his friends. He came to the conclusion they were not important and were not being very affective in helping him at all in his healing process of the death of December.

A few seconds later, a tap on the microphone symbolized the beginning of the Reaping. The District 5 escort, Uberius Garm with his outlandish, bright red hair and orange-tinted skin made him look totally out of place in the gloomy District of 5. Dusty saw his mouth move as if he were talking but no words came out. The man droned on and on apparently quietly as a video played until a few words came into clear for him. "And now let the 13th Annual Hunger Games Reapings begin!"

Fear hit as Aome gripped her arm. Even Aome was terrified to be Reaped and the few seconds that it took between Uberius to pick a single paper and for him to call the lone name was endless and agonizing. Uberius dramatically broke the seal of the paper slip slowly and then let the dramatic pause sink in for many.

Lux thought a million thoughts at once. _What if I'm picked? What will Dad do? Oh forget what Dad will do, what will _I _do? I can't, please, I can't…_

"Good Lux," Aome replied as she did every year before the name was about to be called. Lux nodded mutely and dug her fingernails into Aome's hand as a breath from Uberius was drawn in.

"Lux Hawley."

Suddenly it felt like a huge train had just barreled into Lux as her head lifted up to see if Uberius noticed her. She looked over at her friend who was crying and nodding her head no. She instantly hugged Lux expected Lux to cry too but Lux just sighed. _The universe always wants to screw my life over, huh?_ She pulled away from her friend and whispered, "Bye Aome" as she stepped out into the crowd, depressed beyond belief. Once on stage she looked around for her loopy father in the crowd but none to her surprise, his face was no where to be seen in the crowd.

"Now for the boys," Uberius announced as he walked over to the glass bowl that contained all the male names. _I knew I was going to get picked, I just knew it, _Lux thought to herself as suddenly a single name was drawn out.

Dusty himself was standing the crowd, fidgeting on the inside on what name would be called. Just before he had time to think the name, "Ami Underwood," echoed out into the crowd.

Dusty gasped to himself, a sigh of relief and a sigh of frustration sweeping over him. He had wanted to just go home and not have to be Reaped this year but at the same time, he wanted to go into the Arena to avenge the death of his lost sister.

An eighteen year-old, scrawny, shaking boy stepped forward. His hair was mostly covering his face but when he swooshed it back, Dusty gasped to himself. Watson looked over at Dusty and made eye contact and Dusty almost fainted. He knew exactly who that boy Watson was: December's old best friend. He was one of December's closest friends. In an instant, he knew he could not do that to December. So in one brief step, he stepped out in front of Watson and replied in a shaky, confident, cold voice, "No, I volunteer!"  
Watson looked at him with wide eyes and after that it was all a blur. Dusty had kept walking while Watson ran up to him and was about to confront him when Peacekeepers came in and intervened not giving Watson a chance to say anything. Dusty continued to walk to the stage. _Sorry, sis but I could not do that to you. This is for you. Trust me, I'm going to avenge you somehow or another in there, _he thought to himself as he positioned himself on the stage near the Lux girl. He sized her up out of the corner of his eye. Skinny, obviously suffering malnutrition, scared, depressed, weak… Dusty had a feeling he could beat her, no doubt. _I'm ready, I know this. I can win._

Then just as the rain poured down, Dusty and Lux were escorted to their rooms.

"I can't beat him," Lux whispered to herself. She looked down at her poor frame as if to answer her question. "Yeah, most definitely." Dusty was strong, fit and looked almost ready to kill everyone on sight in the Games. Lux however was not. She was not physically strong which would come as a big weakness in the Games whereas the Dusty boy already had the upper hand on that one.

Within a few minutes of being in the room, Aome burst through with tears streaming down her angel face. She embraced Lux in a hug before Lux could fully sit upright and comprehend Aome's presence. Aome was hysterical, shuddering and breaking into convulsive hiccups. "Oh Lux, oh Lux," Aome thought. Lux was a little shocked herself. This was one of the first times she had ever seen Aome undone and not optimistic. She was crying—a rare sight to see with her and hugging Lux. "Aome, Aome, I'll be okay," Lux replied breaking away.

"Lux, I can't—I can't believe you were picked. How? How could this happen? You can't go, you just cannot go. Lux, you cannot leave me here, alone. You're my only friend. Lux," Aome replied, breaking into sobs. In that moment Lux knew that her friend was breaking down that she could not believe her friend would come home alive. And Lux knew it too, the moment her name was called.

"Look Aome, you and I both know I'm not coming home. So I am going to say this now so you always know. Thank you, for being my friend. For sticking with me when my mother left my dad and me, for making me happy when I felt the saddest, for everything Aome, for everything." Tears were streaming down Lux's face as she said this. "Just thank you because I might not ever get another chance to say this again."

"Oh but try please. Please, Lux, you have to try your hardest. You're a survivor, you're smart and Lux you can survive this just like you survived the years after your mom left," Aome begged.

"I will. I'll try Aome I will. Just can you do me one more favor," Lux asked.

"Yeah, sure anything."

"Can you try to convince my father to come to me? As much as I am ashamed in him, I still want to see him one last time before I go."

Aome's look in her eyes knew that what just came out of Lux's mouth was almost impractical. As soon as someone were to knock on the door, Mr. Hawley would go crazy again or be passed out. Yet Aome knew she had to try, for her friend's sake. She nodded, hugged her friend once more and out the door she went to try to get her father.

And for some indescribable reason, Lux found herself staring at the door, waiting for the father she knew would never come. Her unsaid words were never said to her father that day.

All of Dusty's thought ran back to December. No matter how much he tried to advert the thoughts of his dead sister that racked his brain, it was almost impossible. He had two hours of silence in this small room to sit through and silence always led to thinking, which always led to December.

He knew that he would be alone in his room for the two hours until he and the other tribute were brought to the trains to be shipped off to the Capitol. His parents would not come, they probably would not know that he had even been Reaped until the Tribute Parade tomorrow night via the television. Somewhere deep down, Dusty knew that it killed him with all his might to know that no one really cared about him in this God forsaken District and all that Dusty could find in his upper level of bitterness was an oh well attitude. In fact, he did not suspect that the door would open at all except when being instructed to leave.

It opened.

Confused at the thought that he had only been in his room for about a half hour, Dusty turned around to see the boy Dusty volunteered for—December's old friend—standing in the doorway. He walked over to Dusty and sat down next to him.

An few minutes of awkward silence followed after his entrance. Dusty was not ready to break the silence because after, all _he_ was the one who came inside to see him. The boy finally broke the silence. "Why did you do it?"  
"Excuse me?" Dusty accused.

"Why did you volunteer for me? Why would you volunteer period? We never talked, nothing. I just want to know why," Ami replied.

Dusty sat in silence debating his choices on what to say. Suddenly he decided and replied, "Do you remember her?" Ami looked at him a little skeptically, as if asking him to elaborate what he was saying. "December, I mean."

Suddenly the room was silent… almost too silent. In a whisper, Ami replied, "Yes. All the time… I miss her too. I think about her all the time. She was, she was my best friend. And then she went and died. She almost got out too! But then… you know."  
"Yeah, yeah I do," Dusty replied a little cold.

"I never told her this nor anyone really, but I wish I did. I had this huge crush on her and I was going to ask her out after the Reaping or so, but I never got the chance. I loved her with all my heart and I still love her," Ami explained, tears forming in his eyes. "I miss her. Everyday I wonder what life would be like if she were here."  
"Mhm, yeah, me too," Dusty replied, his voice cracking at the rare emotions he showed.

"So why did you volunteer for me?"  
"You were close to her no?"  
"She was my best friend. She was close to a lot of people, but me especially. Not wanting to myself up on a pedestal or anything but it was true."  
"That's why. I know somewhere December is still looking down at you. I know she loved you, I know that sounds like no good because December loved everyone but I did remember how close you and December were. She loved you and I just could not do that to her. I could not send her best friend to Death Valley." Dusty stood up and paced to the window where the rain was pouring down hard. He always found the rain quite peaceful and nice but tonight he hated it, it just added onto the remorse and anguish many were feeling. "I'm going to avenge December there in the Arena. I'm going to try my hardest. She didn't deserve to die and for that, I'm going to win for her, I'm going to avenge my sister's death. That's why I volunteered for you. I'm ready. I can do this."  
Ami nodded his head slightly. "I bet you could. And I trust in you. So for what you have done, from saving me from a hideous hate, thank you." Dusty nodded somberly. "Welcome."  
Ami left a short while after, leaving Dusty in the room alone again. Once more, Dusty's mind pondered to his dead sister December for the next hour and a half. A couple of times while peering out the window, Dusty saw December, still happy and carefree out in the rain. Yet he knew that it was just a mirage and December was never there.

Even as Dusty was escorted out of his room and drove to the train station on the outskirts of the District, he saw her face in the midst of the crowded places in the District. Even though he knew she was not really there, he felt as if it were a calling; that December was counting on him to win these Games.

He was going to do all in his power to accomplish his dead sister's wish.


	8. Chapter 8

***Hey guys ! Sorry this took forever to write because well I was procrastinating and was very busy . But anywhere here's Chapter 8 . Review please guyss ! Chapter 9 will be coming up much faster I promise you .**

CHAPTER 8

In the hush of the morning, a tired toddler's cries echoed out into the morning serenity. "Shh," Ophelia whispered to the little. "Hush, Angel. Shh, it's too early in the morning now isn't it?"  
The toddler continued to cry as Ophelia rubbed his back to soothe him. He was obviously had a nightmare now as he hugged his little, chunky arms around Ophelia's thin frame. She continued to rub his back as to quiet him. It was too early in the morning and she didn't want to awaken anyone. "It was just a dream Brayden, it was only just a dream.  
"It wasn't a dream Ophi, it was a nightmare," replied the sobbing boy.

"But it's over now, Brayden. Once you have a dream, you cannot have the same one again. Now go back to sleep, Angel."

With sleepy eyes, Brayden nodded at Ophelia's soothing advice as he soon nestled back to sleep.

Ophelia quietly and softy tucked him back into his training bed in the corner of the room that she and Brayden shared. She watched him for a few minutes as he slept shaking her head silently. No matter how loud Brayden cried, Nelly almost never came running. True, she was a very good, nurturing mother and older sister in the daytime but in the morning when Nelly was still cuddling with Chandler, her boyfriend who impregnated her four years ago, to understand the purpose of poor, little Brayden's cries. However, usually by the time Nelly pulled herself out from the covers, Ophelia already got to Brayden.

Ophelia peered out of her semi-filthy window out into the hilly landscape of District 6. How different it looked from her original home in District 12 buried in the corner of the Seam—her home district which she still remembers so vividly. Sharp memories began to flood back as Ophelia hazily remembered the death of her mother at the age of 3.

She never quite understood death before, nor had she really recognized the fact of her mother's death… or at least she doesn't remember it. She was only 3 and it was so long ago. But the intense memories of her poor, injured father who had to give up his daughters to an aunt Ophelia did not even knew existed in District 6, parting them from their father… forever. Ophelia has not talked to her father ever since and in fact, still cannot recall whether or not he was still alive or not.

All the painful memories…

As Ophelia was staring out of her window, the bedroom door creaked open. Nelly, her elder sister, came walking in slowly, slightly concerned. Noticing Ophelia up and near Brayden's training bed, she smiled a grin a gratitude and went to stand by her son's bed. "Thank you again," Nelly replied as she smoothed down her haphazard, bed-head as she knelt next to the bed.

"It's no problem. We're in the same room anyway."

"Yeah. I always wished, he could stay in my room with Chandler, but with the late nights Chandler gets home out plus the minute space in my room…"  
Ophelia sighed to herself. She knew the real reason why Nelly did not sleep in the same room as Brayden was because at first she did not want to fulfill the duties of being a mother. Even now as she has sharpened up and learned to accept the responsibilities, she still was not the best mom ever. After all, she was rather young, only being 22. Ophelia understood, to a point.

Remembering what day it was, Ophelia backed away from the window and went to her bureau to begin getting ready and to stop by her Aunt Kellie's flower shop to do some work before the Reaping. "Is Aunt Kellie at work yet?" Ophelia asked.

"She left a note on the table. I saw it on my way here."  
Ophelia began to tie a buckle around her merchant dress and walk to the kitchen to get breakfast. Nelly followed her outside and made some bitter coffee to drink with Ophelia. As nine o'clock approached, Ophelia finished getting ready just as Chandler and Brayden came waling down the staircase. "Ophi!" Brayden called with his gap-toothed grin. "Where are you going?"

Still to innocent and young to understand the Reaping, Ophelia picked Brayden up and replied, "I'm going to be a big, important meeting in the District square. I'll be back soon. And then we can play tag in the backyard okay?"

He nodded happily as Nelly embraced her and replied solemnly and sisterly, "Good luck."  
"Thank you." Chandler repeated he process as Ophelia walked out the door to her aunt's flower shop down the street. As soon as she arrived, Aunt Kellie jumped up to greet her niece.

To be honest, Ophelia never even really considered Kellie as her aunt, more like a close family friend who somehow got lost after the rebellion. She didn't even think Ophelia was blood; she look nothing alike the memories of what her father looked like or anything like Ophelia and Nelly at all.

After a few hours of assisting her quiet aunt in the flower shop business, Ophelia gathered herself to leave for the Reaping. "Good luck Ophelia, I'll be there later." Ophelia nodded and walked amidst the other nervous teenagers to the square. Arienne and Willo, her best friends, joined her on the way. No one said anything as they walked slowly to the nerve-wracking piazza. They waited in line shaking slightly to get their fingers pricked. Willo noticed her shaking as Arienne chatted with others Ophelia did not know. "Why are you shaking? You've gone through this at least five time already," Willo replied.

Ophelia shrugged and said as she stuck her hand out to get pricked, "There's always a chance you will be reaped." Then she took her place in the sea of children, anxiously awaiting for the Reaping to be over.

The whistle of the train engines echoed from the operation platform down the hill. Eugen was perched at the peak of the hill, watching intensely as the silver, titanium train that had just pulled in. It was a Capitol train, set to distribute the escorts and other important Capitol officials to the Reaping today. He didn't even need binoculars to notice the outlandish attire the Capitol escorts were wearing as they stepped out of the train with their huge umbrellas to "shelter their faces." They could be seen over a mile away in any of the Districts.

Eugen loved to watch the trains pull in and out everyday in the morning and late afternoon. He found it so intriguing. Being from 6, the District of transportation and engineering of transportation, he _was_ supposed to hate traveling and et cetera, but in all honesty he found it so intriguing. He could never understand why. Everyone in his family—despised his father who consistently traveled all over the Districts with his state of the art trains—hated traveling. Eugen was supposedly the odd one out. He always had been in general, he was very quiet and could go long hours without speaking. He _did_ only have one friend… but other than he basically was a big wallflower.

He checked his wristwatch to calculate his time. Ten o'clock. He had two hours left but figured he should start getting home to get prepared for the wretched Reaping. Climbing down from his high hill, he sauntered home.

Eugen was not too nervous about the Reaping today. He was only 14 but his name was in there only 3 times, whereas his sister who is 18 and participating in her last Reaping had her name in their approximately 35 times due to tessarae. She had a higher chance than him to be Reaped… But he could not think about it. Not with family.

As soon as he got home, both his sister and brother were frantically running around, adjusting ties and dress skirts'. He didn't understand what they were in such a complete rush about. There was still another hour and a half to get ready. Maybe it was because his siblings hated being late, he didn't know. But Eugen gathered himself and went down the hall to get himself ready.

As he got prepared for the Reaping, he couldn't help but peer over at his work desk shoved into the crammed corner of his room where a bunch of engineering mechanisms and tiny engines for trains that he had been working. He desired so badly to put it all together, to create something cool but he knew there was absolutely no time for that. Even as he was tying his checkered tie, Kiva—his elder sister—was yelling him to hurry up.

"Okay, okay calm down Kiva," replied Eugen as Kiva materialized in the doorframe.

"You know I hate to be late."

"I know, I know."

He noticed out of the corner of his eye Kiva's uneasy foot tapping on the carpet floor. His sister was never this sketchy or ill at ease. "What's wrong Kiva?"  
She looked up and peered at her brother with shaky eyes. "I'm nervous. I just need to get this over with. It is my last year, I don't want to be picked because… I have gone through all these years, unpicked."

Eugen nodded, he understood. Every kid in the District had the constant fear of being reaped. No one wanted to die at the hands of other teens their age. He walked over to his sister and rubbed her arm, soothing her. She smiled gratefully and led his arm out the door. "Come on, it's time to go."  
The walk to the Reaping was filled with silence. The only sound that could be heard was the sound of their footsteps rubbing up against the gravel and Kiva's shaky breathing. Even as they got to the piazza, there was as if an eerie presence lurked over the whole area.

After checking in, Eugen joined the crowd of fourteen year olds and searched to find his friend, Byke. There amidst the crowd, he saw his tall, blonde-haired friend. They both noticed each other at the same time and acknowledged each other with a scared nod of the head. Eugen always found it so funny how he and Byke were always pushed together when younger, being that they were next door neighbors. At first, the two hated each other; mainly because they were so incredibly different. But now, through all they had been through, they could never be closer. No matter how much they bickered and argued over the most idiotic things, they were still best friends.

Suddenly the outlandish, bright Capitol citizens sashayed onto the stage with their incredibly vibrant pink, orange and yellow hued hair. As the District 6 escort, Femmi Nim, tapped on the microphone Eugen knew as his heart began to beat rapidly, that the 13th Annual Reapings were underway.

"Ladies first," Femmi replied as he placed his hand in the glass bowl.

Ophelia grabbed Arienne's and Willo's hand as tradition and closed her eyes, praying it wasn't her. She was too young, she had too much to live for. Her aunt, Nelly, Brayden…

Suddenly, she looked up and towards the back of the plaza to try to find her aunt, Nelly and Brayden. Within a few seconds, she found her aunt clutching Nelly's hand who tried to simultaneously keep Brayden still and hold Chandler's hand. As soon as Ophelia locked eyes with them and began to smile as if to reassure them, Femmi announced, "Ophelia Vix."

The smile that was on her face for a second completely morphed into a look of sheer terror and shock. As if on unison, her family members—all besides clueless Brayden—put their hands to their mouth in shock. Nelly began to cry silently and Chandler pulled her into an embrace.

_No, _she thought in shock. _How could this happen?_ She dropped her friends' hands and wordlessly stepped out of the crowd and walked towards the stage. She found her knees shaking as Femmi ushered her to center of the stage. Everything was a haze. The thought of being picked diminished all other thoughts due to her surreal.

"And now for the boys."

Usually the  
drawing of the actual was so drawn out and extensive, that the crushing suspense was painful. Maybe it was because the Capital citizens liked the expressions of the young, pained kids. Maybe it was all just for the show. After all, this _is_ sick entertainment for the Capital.

However this year's was relatively short and quick. Simple. And Eugen did not even have time to be grateful that his sister was not reaped on her final year when his name was called out.

Terror swept through him at the surreal thought. Was it him? Yes. It had to be. There was no other Eugen Langen in the whole District. He, at only fourteen years old, would be forced to fight to the death.

He felt tears in his eyes as he looked at Byke. Byke himself looked utterly depressed and shocked. Eugen's name was only in there three times whereas many other people in the District had their name in there many other times. Like his sister for example.

Eugen guessed Byke had urged him forward a little because suddenly Eugen was walking towards the stage, Peacekeepers surrounding him. He sniffed back his tears that were dancing on the edge of his eyelids and tried desperately not to show too meek. Other Districts would be watching this later on the trains on who was pitiful and worthy to be slaughtered in the Bloodbath. Eugen did not want to one of them. He had to be tough.

The rest was a blur. Only up to the part where the tributes had to shake hands. He looked straight into Ophelia's eyes as she lifted his right part of her mouth as if an acknowledgement to give Eugen a sense of good luck. But he didn't acknowledge it back. For he was too shocked to believe what just occurred and he could see it in Ophelia's eyes too.

Within minutes of being in her room, Ophelia's family flooded in. Nelly was hysterical, her aunt was silently sobbing and Chandler was trying to keep everyone together, but it was evident that he too was holding back the few tears that were going to flow. It was rare to see Chandler cry, even on a situation like this. Ophelia could not understand why. Chandler never talked to Ophelia much, he really only was interesting in Nelly. In fact, she never really knew where she meant but her ditzy, wild, pregnant sister began normal and calm after getting impregnated by Chandler. Maybe he was tearing up a little bit because Ophelia was important to Nelly but even then that was a little odd.

Brayden was the only one who seemed normal but however he was completely clueless to the situation. Brayden came in skeptically noticing everyone crying. He sat tentatively on Ophelia's lap and asked innocently, "Ophi, why is everyone crying?"  
"Well Brayden, I, I have to go away for awhile. It's somewhere far, far away where the buildings are all tall, silver and pretty. And I'm going to play a game because I was, uh, picked to play."  
"What game?"  
"It's like a hide and go seek game, except there's a slight twist. But it's okay because you can watch me play on the big screen at home."

"Really?"

"Yeah," Ophi replied sadly.

"Well I hope you win Ophi."

"Yeah, me too," she replied with tears beginning to come down. She took Brayden off her lap and gave him a gigantic hug, whispered 'I love you' into his ear and moved onto the rest of the family. She grabbed Aunt Kellie first and whispered into her ear, "Take care of them Aunt Kellie. Please. Thank you though, for taking Nelly and me in. Thank you for raising me. I love you."  
"I love you too," Aunt Kellie replied softly.

She moved onto Nelly and quickly spoke to her hysterical sister, "I'm sorry. It will be okay. Just take care of Brayden. Don't let him watch it! Find a way to cover his eyes! I don't want him to see. But please, take care of him."

Suddenly the Peacekeepers came barging through, signaling their time to leave. As Ophelia whipped around suddenly to try to grab somebody to hug, she yelled out to her family as they left, "It will be okay!"

But she knew it wasn't.

A little while later, her friends Arienne and Willo came in together to wish her good luck and that they hoped she would win. In a way, Ophelia felt like she could not believe them. After all, Arienne was popular and knew almost everyone in the District. Willo however probably would miss Ophelia but Willow was smart. And she knew very well the odds of her actually winning the Games were one in a million…

Kiva was more hysterical than Eugen himself as they sat together in his waiting room. Brunel and his mother just sat there on the edge on his loveseat appalled at what just was laid down. "It should have been me. How was it not me but you?" Kiva questioned, tears streaming down her face. Though she was the eldest out of the tree siblings, she was somehow finding it hard to keep her emotions together. Eugen just kind of sat there motionlessly trying to comfort his sister. "How could this be?" Kiva asked, through her hiccupping sobs.

"I guess the odds were not exactly in my favor," Eugen spoke in a dead-pan, robotic voice. He was so shocked he could not even comprehend his emotions or what just occurred outside either that is.

His mother looked at him with shocked eyes. Eugen was not entirely sure, maybe hearing her son's words really got to her because suddenly she became to cry. She embraced her daughter and together they cried together.

Eugen had been crying only a little before. And he was not going to cry now, not under these circumstances because now if Eugen were to beginning bawling like his sister and mother, Brunel was no doubt to begin crying. And Brunel had to stay strong because now, he would be the only true man left in the house being that their father is gone so often.

Suddenly Eugen understood that he needed to take action and give Brunel discrete instructions on what to do now that Eugen might not be at home anymore. So as Kiva and his mother were crying, he motioned for Brunel and pulled him over to the corner of the room.

"Look you have to be strong now, Brunel," he said softly and without emotion.

"What do you mean? You are, you are coming back right Eugen?"  
Eugen looked him in the eye and his heart broke. His twin brother who was always less mature than Eugen, yet now he had to be. Eugen was untrained and weak, mostly likely not being able to stomach the fact of killing some other innocent person. He was only good at mechanical things and that was not going to get him incredibly far in the games.

"I want you to make sure you, Kiva and Mom have enough food. Sadly you might have to apply for tessarae because Kiva cannot anymore. Get the chores done. Sell whatever useless junk we don't need to get some more money to buy food. We're not terribly poor but make sure we do not ever get that way—"

"But Eugen, you are coming back right?

A moment of silence lingered over the room. Suddenly it seemed as if Kiva and their ceased their sobbing to hear Eugen's answer. He was greatly loved by his whole family and Eugen knew they wanted him to return. But even they, who were currently hanging onto the last wisps of hope for Eugen to return, they all knew deep down it was inevitable.

Yet they were all hoping for the answer and if Eugen were to deliver another, the family would be torn. In fact, it was almost as if they all knew the answer because it was almost kind of given.

"I'll try."

And Eugen genuinely did mean it, deep down. He just didn't know if he would be able to fulfill it.


	9. Chapter 9

***Hey guys ! Sorry I haven't uploaded in like a month , but I've been working on my book , studying for a lot of HUGE tests coming up and soccer ... Too much stuff , so little time . But anyways I'm back with District 7 Reapings . Excited?. I know , we're almost done . I will not update though for about 2 weeks because of Spring Break this upcoming week and of big tests coming up afterwards but it will be a shorter upload perioud unlike this one . promise !**

**Anyways , please review like always , I always appreciate those . Love you guyss ! And thanks for staying with me ! :-)**

CHAPTER 9

Under a thick oak tree with a beautiful spine book and a rather dull pencil, Neale McGregor sat looking out into the endless forest of tall, thick trees that make up and encompass the dull District of 7. It was the basic scenery of District 7, no matter where you live in the District. In a way, the normal scenery always bothered Neale. For as long as he could remember, all there was of District 7—even before the catastrophic rebellion—was trees; some hideous, some beautiful and tall. Even so, whatever tree there was, there was honestly too much.

Neale always had wished to move away from another District besides 7. He wanted to move to a District that gave him a little more inspiration for his poetry. True, his poetry that he wrote continuously was always very good and considered one of the best—possibly the best—in the District, but still something was always the same about them.

It was the morning of the Reaping. And that was what Neale's poem for the day was about today. The hideous Reaping that plagued his dreams every night for a week leading up to the day of the Reaping. It was always the fear that he would be reaped because if so, he would die. After all, he was terrified at the sight of blood and fainted at the sight of it. And forget about sleeping alone in that large Arena because the dark scared him as well.

So, writing with a shaky hand and quivering slightly at the thought in just two hours would be his last Reaping ever, he was clearly anxious. What if he was reaped on his final Reaping after thinking he would be safe? How ironic would that be?

How sad would that be?

It was a rather chilly day in 7 that day. Neale believed it was almost like the universe was giving him a sign, an omen of sorts. Maybe that was just his poetic mind to working but still, Neale never enjoyed the cold especially on unspeakable days like so.

He was not too far from his house and he could see the chimney stacks smoking. Well, it was not really his house. Never was and never will be. After his family died mysteriously when Neale was only about three, the government of District 7 assigned him to an extended family. In total there was nine of them, seven kids and two adults—and out of those seven children, four were adopted. He never knew them nor had ever met them but they were nice people who brought Neale up well. Even though Neale never really knew his parents, he had difficulty coping. And still did. He never really spent much time at home because he was felt that awkward need of over-loving and conditional love.

He closed his eyes for a little bit after writing his final stanza for the poem of the day. He laid there against the trunk of the tree for a few minutes when suddenly he heard light, childlike footsteps running towards him and crunching the delicate meadow grass underneath their shoes. He heard the feet stop right in front of him and he crookedly opened one single to see Gretchen, his seven year-old adopted sister standing silently in front of him, her blue eyes large like always. He opened both eyes and slowly got up because he knew it was time to get ready for the Reaping. "Okay Gretchen, I'm coming. Tell Ressa I will be there soon."

She nodded and ran back innocently to the house.

Gretchen was one of the four assigned children to the household and ever since she was brought in when she was three, she had never spoken. Neale had many beliefs on why she did not, either from severe trauma she endured when a toddler or that she was always to shy to actually warm up to anyone.

Even though Neale himself never felt at home or comfortable in that house, he could never imagine being silent for all those years. Plus, it was not like he had any true friends. Yes, he had Ileanys, Cornelius, and Fern, but they were assigned to him by the government of 7. The government did not want him to be a loner kid so they assigned him to a group of friends. Yet half the time, Neale always felt like the fourth wheel and unnecessary to the group; sometimes they did not include him in gatherings or conversations, saying he would not understand.

I guess he never did.

He snapped himself out of his thoughts as his sibling's small frame was swallowed by the hill. He followed suit, tucking his leather bound notebook underneath his arm and his pencil behind his ear. Walking into the house, everything was all hustle-and-bustle with seven kids running around, finishing getting dressed for the Reaping. His mother and father were too busy assembling all the children around to get to the Reaping that they did not even notice Neale walk through the door. Not that it was anything different from normal but still.

Neale slumped up the rickety stairs to the small, crammed bedroom that he shared with four other boys in the household. The only article of furniture he had was a small trunk at the foot of the bunk bed he shared with Greene, the boy who was the same age as him. He threw on his best white shirt and khaki pants. Though he was wearing what looked like his "nicest" clothes, his shirt and slacks were not ironed and looked raggedy. He knew that the money situation in his household was tight but still, he could have at least put in the decency to iron right? Except Neale did not care. He did not really care because for as long as he could remember, he had been invisible to the world. And year after year, he hoped he was invisible to the Capital as well.

Willow crouched underneath the sea of trees, tugging on the long sleeves of her chiffon blouse. She rubbed ferociously away at the tears that were escaping from her eyes. She hated the fact she was crying right now. Willow Moss was tough, tougher than anyone and definitely any girl. She never cried. No matter how bad her father was.

It was probably the umpteenth time that her father said the same words to her. "You're worthless Willow."

Her head hurt, her wrists were bruised and she could still feel the sting on her cheek when her father's hand struck her face. Yet again. And for another time her brothers just stood there watching with blank expressions on their faces as she winced slightly at the strike.

You would think that after being hit consistently for almost twelve years she would become used to be struck by her drunken father whenever she talked back to her father's harsh words. But today, she did not know. Something inside of her snapped.

More tears formed in her eyes as she replayed the words her father said as she walked down the corridor to the kitchen this morning. As usual, a bottle of rum was placed in front of her dropping, haphazard father. It was almost noon and she was already in her Reaping attire, her hair done up in its usual black, large bun. Her brothers were gathered around the cracked mirror in the corridor, all combing back their hair to look presentable for the Reaping. She was just pouring herself some juice when her father's slurred words made her jump. "What the Sam hell do you think you're doing?"  
She had accidentally spilled a drop or two on the countertop when her father made her jump. She immediately covered it up with body and tried to inconspicuously clean up the mess without her father knowing. He hated messes and made it very clear in his household. A mess of any kind was worth a slap; depending on how messy it was, the harder you would get slapped. Yet Willow was the only exception—in a horrible way. No matter the size of the mess, she would get slapped incredibly hard.

"I'm pouring myself juice," she replied in her usual condescending tone. "Is that so wrong?"

She could hear her brothers turn around and peer into the kitchen, obviously curious on what will occur. She heard her father scoot back his chair. She quickly rubbed up the minute mess on the counter. Her father was walking awkwardly over to her where he appeared right behind her. She could smell the alcohol on him. "Are you sassing me missy?"  
"No," she murmured.

"Look at me when I am talking to you," he replied as he whirled her around, grabbing her fiercely by shoulders and squeezing them sharply. She scowled at her father who clearly was too intoxicated to think and was going out on Willow because of the fact he was drunk. No doubt would he forget this tomorrow. "Let go of me," she stated calmly and angrily. Her father was not going to manhandle her.

She jerked away and pushed her father's arm aside. She moved around him but suddenly was rocketed back by someone pulling forcibly on her collar. Within seconds, her father had pulled her back to have her inches from his face. Anger was in his eyes and his nostrils flared, just like he always looked when he was about to hit one of his kids. "Do not walk away from me. Who do you think you are, you worthless piece of crap? You're worthless Willow." And with that he struck her.

Frustration and anger fused inside her as she turned around with all she had and punched her father straight in the jaw. It only took him a few seconds to recover before he pulled her by her bun and jerked her head back. "What the hell do you think you're doing? How dare you hit me you ignorant, ungrateful child! Worthless, worthless, worthless." And with every worthless he struck her.

"Who do you think you are?" she spat back at the man holding her. He jerked back her head and pulled on her bun again, causing some hair to fall out. She screamed in pain as her brothers came walking up slowly to the kitchen. Brady, the eldest, looked as if he were about to intervene but suddenly stopped. Even towering, muscular, eighteen year-old Brady did not want to face their father. Only Willow had the guts to stand up to him in the family.

After he beat her a few more times and pulled out her hair, he whispered, "Now is there anything else you want to say to me there?"  
She whimpered and shook her head. "No."

"Call me sir after you speak to me."  
"No, _sir," _she replied her nostrils flaring and her emotions raging.

As soon as he let go, she dropped to the floor. Her skirt had rode up and her father looked down at her, looking her up and down, stopping in various places. The memories of horrific experiences flashed to her as she pulled down her skirt, hopped up and looked around at her "family." She ran out of the room and out into the deep forest nearby their house.

With the feelings and thoughts circulating of her rage at her father and the anxious feelings of the Reaping today, her emotions were wild and on a rampage. She could not control the tears that were flowing and she hated herself for it. Willow Moss, who never had once been caught smiling in public, who was completely competitive and aggressive, who endured so much agony and depression she thought she should kill herself, never ever cried. Not under any circumstances. There had been worse beatings than this, why was she crying now?

She ran until she stumbled upon an axe resting near a tree. In an act of fury, she took it up, swung it around and hurled it at a tree. It buried into the trunk of the tree causing a huge crack in the middle of the trunk. She threw it effortlessly, after all she has had years of practice throwing knives and axes after her mother died and her father began to beat her. She practiced it for modes of defense, but soon it became something much more. She enjoyed throwing around the weapons and watching them demolish whole trees sometimes. It was almost like sadism, but she did not admit it because it was like her escape from her suicidal thoughts. She was heaving and puffing really loudly when suddenly she collapsed to the ground bawling and rubbing away at her tears.

It was about a half hour later when suddenly she stopped crying at herself. She knew it was pointless to cry, no one would care and no one would be there for her aid. She had no friends, no family members to count on. She was alone and she hated it, but there was nothing she could do and sadly this was how life was.

She stared at the buried axe in the tree trunk. It was barely stuck into the trunk, pitiful compared to some of her hardest throws. Suddenly, she felt displeased by the pathetic axe in the trunk. She stood and walked to the trunk, yanking the sharp, large axe out of the trunk. She walked back about forty paces and stood glaring evilly and angrily at the tree. From a distance, seeing an utterly skinny girl attempt to throw a huge axe like this, people would laugh at her fruitless attempt.

But they didn't know Willow.

In a swift, fluid moment of sheer anger and evil, Willow took a step and bowled the axe fast and swift into the tree trunk. It burrowed deep into trunk and began cracking the trunk around the axe. A sadistic smile appeared on Willow's lips as she walked up to the tree. If that were a tribute in the Hunger Games, no doubt would they lose. No doubt would that cause massive bleeding. No doubt would Willow win.

She took the axe out of the trunk, continuing to smile evilly. She caressed the blade and eyed her artwork on the tree, pleased. Yet she was not finished. In a jerky motion she roared and began slicing at the tree with rapid-fire, angry hacks. She kept hacking and hacking at the defenseless poor tree trunk, anger in her soul, wishing that the tree trunk was her father.

Willow arrived later at the Reaping, walking alone. She was not going home after the episode with her father. Plus, she was not walking home with her betrayal brothers. No correction, her _scared _brothers who were too petrified to face their father when he's beating on their little sister. Whatever.

Her hair and clothes were in disarray unlike this morning. It was not like she looked extravagant before her father began beating on her. She despised the Games with every fiber of her being. No way was she going to put extra effort of looking wonderful for a stupid Reaping. She only dressed up because it was required.

Her large bun was drooping on the crown of her head with a handful of wispy hairs sticking to her sweaty forehead. Her eyes were still slightly puffy yet they were almost unrecognizable now. Her dress which consisted of a braided belt underneath the bosom was missing. No doubt were the bruises and slap marks from her father's beating this morning were going to come through any minute now. She didn't care though. _Let them stare, maybe I'll finally be noticed in this freaking world by looking not presentable for a stupid Reaping, _I thought.

She saw her youngest brother, Quince who spotted Willow the same time as she did. They made eye contact and Willow could see a look of pity in his eyes. She knew it was fake though because if he truly felt bad for her, he would have swooped in to save her. Not just today, but all those other days. All those other times she shook from the immense pain. Or how about that time she misaligned her jaw because her dad slugged her so hard? What did he do that time? Nothing. So when Quince mouthed 'sorry' to her across the quad, she looked at with a false smile and stuck her middle slightly up in the air to him, only enough where he could see it. Then she smirked and sashayed to the twelve year-olds section. _Screw family. They're nothing._

Just then, an outlandish Capitol escort wobbled onto the stage. The man gathered himself and walked steadily and mightily to the microphone where he began droning on over dramatically about the wonder of the Hunger Games and how much of an "honor" it was to participate in one. _How idiotic, _Willow thought.

He puckered his lips and announced slowly that it was time to pick the female tribute. Willow was not paying attention. To be honest, she was still seething from the episode with her father this morning. How dare he slap her like that and on this day of all days? Didn't he remember this was her first Reaping and that she was under a lot of pressure and what if—

"Willow Moss."

It cut like daggers into the knives, sharp and sudden. It cut off Willow's train of thought and honestly, made her more furious than she already was. She looked around, and the hatred and anger was probably written bluntly on her face. She bit the inside of her cheek, her anger at the Reaping, the Hunger Games, her father, everything was fuming. She was about to scream out to the world but she had to contain her anger as much as possible. She stomped towards the stage and brushed off the escort who tried to escort her to the proper spot. She stood on the stage, fuming and looking out into the crowd angrily.

Then she saw her brothers, who had mixed emotions on their faces. Then on the inside she began to smirk, her evil, condescending smirk. She was going to the Hunger Games. It was mandatory the citizens of all Districts watch them.

_Perfect, not only do my brothers have to watch but so does my family. And I am twenty times better than most of those tributes. I'll kill them in a heartbeat, now I can finally show my father I'm not a worthless piece of shit like he thinks. _

The idea sounded riveting. And as she stood upon that stage, thinking slightly to herself how she could pull the tributes apart one by one, the male name was called. "Neale McGregor."

As Willow looked around the crowd evilly to size up the competition, a boy fell to the floor, fainting. Clearly, the boy who fainted on impact was Neale.

This was going to be good, Willow could feel it in her bones.

Neale did not remember much until afterwards, where the escort and a few others were fanning himself on the stage. He had been told to stand up, shake the other girl's hand and they would get him a room afterwards.

He could not believe he fainted. No doubt already he looked pathetic and an easy target for the Games. Yet one thing was for sure, he was not invisible anymore. Not to his family nor to the ruthless Capital or other bloodthirsty tributes. He was a target now.

Immediately, the thought of dying merciless in that cold Arena was chilling. He did not want to die, surely he didn't. He just wanted to remain invisible to the Games as so not to get picked. Guess the odds were not in his favor.

He waited a while until his large family came filing in one by one. The room was crowded enough but adding on about ten other people is another story. Four of the kids, including Neale, were crammed onto the loveseat, the twin sisters were sitting on top of each other in the little velvet chair and everyone else stood awkwardly in corners and in front of windows, trying to accommodate the room for everyone.

Neale coughed and nodded to everyone saying softly, "Uh, thanks for coming everyone."

Everyone nodded awkwardly and briefly.

The tension in the room was great. No one really knew what to say. After all, no one really did pay attention to Neale. They did not know his strengths and weaknesses or if he was merely intelligent. No one really knew _much _about him in general. Thus no one knew what to say. He never was home, he was always off wondering with his poetry book, so there were no memories for them to recall and reminisce about "good ol' days" with him because honestly there were none.

Neale even knew the only people that might say anything is either Gretchen, Arsec, John, Liam and/or his 'parents.' Yet he had never Gretchen mutter a syllable, Arsec, John and Liam really did not have much to say considering he was only Neale's roommates who all hung out together and excluded Neale. And his parents were different stories. They were always too preoccupied with the other kids to notice or read Neale's exquisite poems he wrote daily or reminisce with him and tell him how much they loved him.

This family, ever single one of them, was forced together. They were not blood nor did they share a common, loving bond for each other. In fact, it seemed like they were all minute separate families living under one roof and only speaking with their family. Neale himself did not seem to know much about anyone in the family. It felt wrong. And it felt awkward.

Once their awkward, two minutes were and they were about to leave, they all muttered, "Good luck" to Neale as they went out in a single-filed line. Yet even that seemed forced and too much. It sounded rehearsed, with no emotion, just in a monotonous voice as they marched out like wooden soldiers.

Neale could not help shaking his head as they left. It was too much effort for them to come, honestly. They had not muttered much to each other throughout everyone's time of living there. And even having them all here in one room seemed to fit the family into an unwanted, uncomfortable situation.

At least they wished him good luck.

He was half-expected his friends to show up and promptly at 12:30, they walked in separately.

Ileanys was first. She came in and sat down on the coffee table without a care, smiling sweetly to Neale as she did. Ileanys was always one of those people who didn't live by rules and didn't care what other people said. She was free-spirited and Neale liked that about her. "Well Neale, I, I hope you come on through," she replied too sweetly. Forced it seemed.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. It would be nice for you to come home because I would miss you terribly if you die. Plus, it would be nice for District 7 to finally have a winner."  
"And you believe I am just the person who can bring home the dazzling trophy for the District?" Neale scoffed.

"Maybe. Anything could happen."

He shrugged. Ileanys just sat there staring at him for a little bit and then stood to leave. "Good luck Neale, I hope you come back."  
Next was Cornelius, who came striding in all professional and popular. "Well," Cornelius began with his cool-kid swagger status, "I hope you come back Neale. I'd miss you."

Again Neale nodded. It was the same speech Ileanys gave. Was this forced? Were they all really showing emotions for him or was it all some planned scam because they could not think of anything else to say? He sighed and waited until Cornelius exited as Fern came in. "I hope—"

Yet Neale just nodded and looked out the window. This was going to be the same thing all over again and Neale did not need another reminder that he was invisible still to most of the population here, even if he did get Reaped for the Hunger Games.

Willow stood in the room, refusing to stand. She was slowly practicing different combat moves, in a way of preparation for the Games. She was actually enjoying herself a little and liked the hush when suddenly her father and three brothers came bursting in.

"How dare you get Reaped?" her father demanded.  
Willow look at him like he was delusional. Really? Was this man really blaming the idea that she got Reaped _her fault._ What the hell was wrong with this man? Did he have no common sense? She rolled her eyes and pointed her finger out the door. "If you are not here to wish me luck or congratulate me, get out and I mean," she sneered. In fact, it felt good to stand up to her father and tell him off. She felt kind of free.

But it was a dumb move.

Her father slapped her extremely hard on the cheek and roared in her face with spit flying everywhere. "YOU ARE NOT GOING TO TELL ME WHAT TO DO YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE GIRL!"  
"Don't call me… a… little girl!" she screamed, after recovering from the slap.

"Do no tell me what to do I am your father!"  
"No you're not, you're just some sleazebag who only cares about drinking the next drink and beating on me any chance you get!" she hollered.

Her father loomed over her, nostrils flared, teeth bared and anger in his eyes. "What did you just say?" He raised his hand.

"Dad stop," Quince replied as he got in between the two. "Stop. She's your daughter and she's about to go into the Hunger Games! Do not do this right now."  
Willow looked aghast at her suddenly brave brother who stood in between them. Her father loomed over the two and roared, "Let her go! She's much better off there anyway! Let her die!"  
"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU JUST SAY?" Willow shrieked. "How dare you say I am going to die you worthless alcoholic! What would you know? You cannot even survive if someone threw a knife at you while you are drunk, let along five in the Hunger Games! You have no right to even say that because you don't know that I have been training and I am damn good at it! I'm going to win this freaking Games and bring the only title of Victor to this God forsaken District! Don't you dare tell me I am going to die because you know nothing of the sorts! YOU DOUCHEBAG!"  
"WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY!"  
Suddenly Quince, Evergreen and Trun were all trying to hold back her cursing, berserk father. With the help of three whistling Peacekeepers, they were able to haul her father out the door. "And I hate all of you!" Willow yelled, satisfied at the last part.

These were her Games and some intoxicated retard were not about to ruin her chances of beating those unmistakable odds.

.


End file.
